


way, no way

by irishmizzy, miss_bennie



Series: way, no way [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishmizzy/pseuds/irishmizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_bennie/pseuds/miss_bennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is going to be even better than America," Harry says, his mouth so close Niall can feel his lips against the shell of his ear.</p><p>"Better?" Niall raises his eyebrow as the crowd gets louder, the kind of roar Niall can feel in the soles of his feet. "Don’t know if that’s possible, Haz."</p><p>(Stylan do Europe, the sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1735712">emotional knapsack</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	way, no way

**Author's Note:**

> "Hey, Missy..."
> 
> "You know, our band is playing on Friday."
> 
> "Yeah, yeah. You should come check us out. We’re called "Way! No Way!"."
> 
> "No way!"
> 
> "Way!"

Harry spots Niall immediately, tucked into an empty corner of the first class lounge, slumped in his seat and responding to emails on his phone. Probably the same emails Harry’s got waiting in his inbox, all sorts of last minute details marked as urgent even though they’re not at all.

“I thought we said no work while we’re on holiday?”

Niall jumps at the sound of his voice, his neck flushing. Harry makes a fist to keep from touching it, worried that once he starts he won’t be able to stop. 

“Just telling Lou’s new assistant we really don’t give a shit about which bottled water they put in the dressing room,” Niall says, finishing typing and stuffing his phone into his pocket. He rolls his eyes, laughing when Harry laughs. 

“Don’t remember things being this mad last time,” Harry says, dropping into the seat next to Niall.

“Oh, Haz,” Niall snorts, reaching over to pat Harry’s head gently, like he’s very dumb, “repression is a powerful coping mechanism.”

“Hey.” Harry frowns, shrugging Niall off him. Though now that he thinks about it, there were an awful lot of shouting messages from Louis last year, telling them to pick a bloody band name or he’d shave all of Harry’s hair off and they could tour as the Bald Eagles. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe.” Niall makes a face before reaching over to tug the sunglasses hanging from the collar of Harry’s shirt, his eyes tracking the way the neckline dips. Harry holds his breath, reminding himself they’ve got a plane to catch any minute now. “How was your flight?”

“Not bad,” Harry says. “Slept a bit, feeling good.”

“Yeah?” Niall grins wickedly. “Showing up well-rested for a holiday,” Niall squeezes his knee, leaves his hand there, warm and solid and not nearly enough, “good lad.”

**

It’d seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, the two of them fucking off before Stylan’s three month tour of Europe starts. 

“Let’s just disappear,” Niall’d said after a day of marathon meetings with Louis and Liam, everyone at their wits’ end, “go off the grid before it starts. Somewhere warm. And quiet.”

If he’d had any foresight Harry would’ve said no, we’ll just hole up at yours for however long we bloody want, but instead he’d said, “Yes, please, book it now,” and now he feels like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin every time Niall tugs on his sunglasses, dragging Harry’s shirt lower each time, like all he wants is to see a bit more of Harry’s skin. He does it the whole unbearably long trip, from the airport to the car to the resort to the front desk, not once offering to duck into a bathroom and suck Harry off real quick, just to take the edge off.

Harry tries to retaliate but London bad been considerably cooler than LA was and Niall's got too many layers on. He settles for catching Niall’s wrist when he tugs at Harry’s sunglasses again, feeling the bones shift under his skin as he tries to twist free, remembering Niall spread out in his bed a few weeks back. It feels like so much longer ago, all the tour planning piling up, making time pass in strange ways.

“Alright there, Haz?” Niall's eyes are dark even though his voice is light, cheerful. The concierge is smiling at them both expectantly; Harry coughs and then nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

“C’mon,” Niall says once he’s done checking them in. He tugs at Harry’s sunglasses again, his fingertips dragging over Harry’s stomach deliberately. “This way.”

Harry takes a steadying breath before following. If they’d stayed in London they’d definitely have fucked by now. He has so many regrets.

**

“Don’t you want to --”

“No,” Harry cuts Niall off, kissing him again before shoving him back towards the bed. Their bags are still by the front door, right where Harry’d dropped them so he could shove Niall up against the wall and snog him like he hadn’t in the airport, or the car, or the lobby. Honestly, Niall’s lucky they’ve made it to the bedroom at all.

Niall makes a low, appreciative sound when Harry pulls his shirt off, chucking it on the floor. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” he asks, teasing, like he isn’t reaching for Harry, urging him to crawl across the bed faster. Like Harry doesn’t know how hard Niall’s cock is right now. 

“Someone was a right twat the whole trip here,” Harry says pointedly, settling in Niall’s lap.

“Nah,” Niall grins, his hands curling over Harry’s hips, “you were fine, really.”

Harry frowns, narrowing his eyes, but he can’t keep it up when Niall laughs. He’s missed him, is all. Missed _this_. Spending an hour nailing down possible set lists and then having a quick wank over Skype is great and all but it pales in comparison to the actual thing. Harry honestly can’t wait until they’re on tour, three full months in the same space. It’s going to be unbelieveable. He’s been counting down the days.

Niall touches the _Stylan_ on Harry’s chest, his fingertips as featherlight as his shirt had been when Niall had dragged it down. Harry feels his eyes go wide. Niall winks when Harry looks at him. 

“Gotta work on your tan this week,” he says, the last bit of it getting lost when Harry surges forward, Niall’s head bumping the wall when Harry kisses him.

“Sorry.”

“M’fine,” Niall says, his hands in Harry’s hair like he wants to keep him in one place. As if Harry’s planning on going anywhere else for the duration of the trip. Harry braces one hand on the wall next to Niall’s head, uses his other to undo his flies, shoving his pants down as far as they’ll go without him having to move. 

Niall hisses, his teeth digging sharp into Harry’s lower lip when Harry reaches for the button on his jeans. He lifts his hips to try and help, their kiss going sloppy with all the shifting around.

“Fuck, Haz,” he grits out when Harry gets his hand round Niall’s cock, “Jesus, just --”

“What?” Harry slows his hand, shifting back so he can watch the way Niall’s eyes flutter when he circles his thumb over the head. It’s like he’s falling asleep, nearly. Like he’s on the verge of passing out.

“Nobody likes a cocktease.”

Harry hums, twisting his wrist the way Niall likes, making his cock twitch and his hips jerk up into Harry’s grip. “Think you do.”

“Lies,” Niall says before gathering himself enough to reach for Harry’s cock, smirking when Harry’s breath catches. It’s been too long, really. Harry can’t help the desperate noise he makes, glad that it’s muffled by Niall’s mouth. 

Later he’ll throw open the balcony doors, take his time opening Niall up, fuck him with the sunshine and sea air streaming in, but right now he hasn’t got the patience. Hasn’t got any presence of mind, really, everything building to this since Harry stepped off that first plane and saw that flush crawling up Niall’s neck, the same way it is just now. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Niall sounds choked when Harry ducks his head, mouthing at the tendons of his neck, biting hard enough that there could be a mark, maybe, “ _fuck_.”

Niall’s hips jerk in that way that means he’s close, the telltale way his muscles go rigid, even his hand tightening around Harry’s cock, making Harry’s vision swim. It’s so good, is all, this first go after they’ve been apart. It’s good all the time, but Harry has a soft spot for a reunion shag, the way everything feels frantic, like a pot about to boil over.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, biting at Niall’s pulse point again, Niall coming with a groan that has Harry smiling into his skin, his own cock aching in Niall’s slackened grip. Harry waits what feels like an interminable amount of time before he scrapes his teeth against Niall’s collarbone, shifting until Niall gets the hint.

“You want me to,” Niall kisses him quickly, his hand moving slower than Harry’d like, “if you move, Haz, I could --”

“No, just,” Niall makes a tighter fist, the way Harry likes, and he groans, so close that he can barely think.

“Later, then,” Niall says, his other hand coming up to pinch Harry’s nipple, hard.

“Yeah,” Harry gasps out, dropping his head to Niall’s shoulder, “later, later, later.”

They’ve got so much time coming up. All the time in the world.

**

“Harry. Harry.” 

Harry turns in time to see Niall stretching as far as he can, trying to reach Harry, who’s lying on a nearby lounger. He doesn’t quite make it, his hand swinging and meeting air. He settles for throwing a handful of sand at Harry’s chest.

“What the,” Harry brushes it off, sputtering even though none of it had landed in his face, “why would you do that?”

“Sorry. Just.” Niall rolls over, crawling to where Harry is. They’ve been drinking for far too long -- all day, really, all _week_ , not a care in the world between them -- and clearly Niall's limbs aren’t working as well as he’d like. If Harry’s were working better he’d help Niall haul himself onto the lounger. As it is, he watches, wide-eyed and amused, while Niall bats the sand off Harry’s stomach before forcing space for himself at his side. It’s cramped, but not so much that Harry minds. He fights against the shiver threatening when Niall runs his finger along the edge of Harry’s laurels.

“Haz,” Niall says after a moment, pushing up until he’s looming over Harry, scratching at the laurel harder now, “have you got tan lines under here?”

“What?” Harry nearly dislodges them both when he sits up, has to hold onto Niall with one hand and the lounger with the other. He’s not sure when everything started moving so fast, but it did.

“Under your tats,” Niall says slowly, like Harry’s the ridiculous one. He flattens his palm against Harry’s chest before scratching the butterfly with this thumbnail. It’s so sharp Harry gasps, his knuckles tightening on the lounger. “Like if I lift the edge, will it be white underneath?”

He pushes Harry until he’s flat on his back again, Niall’s face so close he can feel his breath hot and damp on his skin. Harry’s got gooseflesh all over. 

“How much have you had to drink?” he asks, pushing his hand into Niall’s hair until Niall tips his head back, his eyes glassy when they meet Harry’s.

“How much have _you_ had?”

Harry shrugs and Niall shrugs back, making a face that forces a chuckle out of Harry.

“Think we should stay here,” Niall says once he’s settled again, his cheek on Harry’s chest. 

“We don’t have to go in yet,” Harry says. It’s barely nighttime.

“No, like,” Niall shifts, his stubble scraping Harry’s skin, “like forever.”

Harry chuckles, staring out at the sea, the sun sinking into the water like they’re at the edge of the earth. It is beautiful here; he wouldn’t mind staying longer. Only. “We kind of have a tour to do, Nialler.”

“We’ll do it here. Email Li in the morning, tell him we’re doing this island instead of Europe. Playing at a different palm tree every night.” 

“In that case…” Harry trails off, carding his fingers through Niall’s hair. 

“Introducing Stylan!” Niall says, making his voice sound deep and far away, like a proper announcer. He hums just enough of a song -- one of their new ones that Harry can never remember the name of, him and Niall going back and forth so many times on what to call things -- to send Harry into a fit of laughter. 

“Ace,” Harry says after he’s calmed down again. He rubs his fingers over the still-sore spot on his pec where Niall’d bitten him. “It was your idea, though, so you’ve got to tell Louis and Liam.”

“Unfair.”

“Is it?” Harry tugs at Niall’s hair, feeling him inhale. It’s quiet while Niall thinks about it. 

It might be worth it, Harry thinks. Him and Niall in this villa for the rest of time. What could be better? Touring, probably. They’d spent all morning coming up with possible setlists for the first show, Niall writing them in the sand until Harry’d jogged back to the villa for his journal and a pen. He’s so ready to get back on the road he feels like he could burst, that itch under his skin that even an island getaway can’t quite scratch.

“Guess not,” Niall says eventually, his nose rubbing against Harry’s sternum. He’s falling asleep already. Harry should get up, move them both inside before the mosquitoes eat them alive. It seems like such an effort.

**

They spend the entire next day in bed, the blinds drawn, both of them too hungover to contemplate anything but tea and sleep. It’s nice, though. Relaxing in it’s own way.

“It’s a bit like tour, yeah?” Harry says, sliding his palm over Niall’s back. He’s still got faint scratches from last night, their clumsy attempt at shagging on the balcony. “That time the fans figured out where we were staying and Al was going mental thinking we’d sneak out on him. Where were we, Boston? Or like, Philadelphia? No, it was --”

Niall covers Harry’s mouth. “I swear to god, Haz, if you don’t stop talking.”

“You’ll what?” Harry nips at the pads of Niall’s fingers. 

“Definitely _won’t_ fuck you in the shower later,” Niall mumbles into the pillows. Harry freezes. 

“There’s no need to be cruel.” It’s a bloody rain showerhead and everything, he’s been after Niall about it since they checked in. He’s pretty sure it’ll feel like shagging in a storm.

“Shhhh,” is all Niall says, his fingers patting clumsily at Harry’s face. It’s a long wait before his body goes slack, his breathing deep and even, but Harry doesn’t turn the telly on until he’s sure Niall’s out cold. They’re leaving tomorrow afternoon; he doesn’t want to risk it.

**

“Alright,” Harry sighs, watching his phone slowly power on, “moment of truth.”

“How many do you think? Like, over/under?” Niall asks and Harry pauses, considering. They’ve been gone nearly a week. They’re due in Copenhagen in only a few days. Could be dozens. Could be Louis and Liam have everything completely sorted.

“Or,” Niall slides over until Harry’s crowded against the car door, “could let it wait.”

Harry glances at his phone but Niall’s got his hand covering the screen. Harry’s shoulder’s gone cold where it’s pressing against the glass, the harsh reality of autumn in London. It makes Harry miss LA. Maybe they should’ve stayed on holiday until the very last minute, flown straight in before the show, taken these last few meetings from their beach loungers.

“I suppose it’s not over until you’re actually home, yeah? Technically.”

“Technically,” Niall agrees, ducking down to butt his head against Harry’s arm. Harry turns his phone over in his hands and tips his head back, away from the window, until all he can see is the slope of Niall’s nose, the smattering of freckles across his cheek.

&&&

There’s a nervous energy swirling in Niall’s gut, Harry’s hand on his thigh doing little to calm it. 

“See, this,” Louis bursts into the dressing room like a hurricane, Liam right behind him, “this is why we wanted to have you rehearse beforehand. Horan looks like he’s going to lose it. Tell me you at least have a set list.”

“We rehearsed,” Harry says, sounding insulted. He sits up, Niall trying not to focus at the cold that comes with the loss of his body heat.

“For five days. And then you fucked off to Majorca for a week.” Louis stops texting long enough to glare at both of them.

“We figured out our set list while we were there?” 

“Well done, lads,” Liam says, grinning. “Let’s have it, then.”

“Honestly, Payno,” Louis scoffs, “if you believe that --”

“What do you mean, ‘if,’ why wouldn’t I?”

“Have they _ever_?” 

Niall tunes them out, knowing they’re doing it mostly to distract him, to distract both of them. It’s working, really, and that’s -- well. For as much shit as he gives them, he’s real glad it’s Louis and Liam here instead of some random exec shouting about the bottom line. The lead up to the tour had been taxing as ever, but he knows, deep down, it could’ve been so much worse.

“At least tell us what you’re starting with,” Liam says.

“Everything to Me,” Niall lies, at the same time as Harry says, “Little White Lies.”

They burst out laughing, Liam touching the bridge of his nose before sighing. “Fine then, guess I won’t let you see what Zayn’s sent.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It was a group text, Payno, they’ve already seen it.”

“What? No, Zayn said,” Liam looks from his phone to Harry and Niall, who nod, and then back at his phone again, “oh.”

“Sorry, Li,” Harry says, twisting to reach the water bottle he’d dropped earlier. Niall reaches out to steady him, ignoring the stretch of skin where Harry’s shirt’s riding up, faint bruises on his hip. He forces himself to think about the video Zayn’d sent, his disembodied voice trying to get Laser to say good luck, Laser ignoring him and yelling _bye!_ instead. 

“Would’ve been good leverage, though,” Niall says once Harry’s upright again. Liam shrugs like it was worth a shot. 

There’s a knock at the door, their five minute warning. Niall exhales, listens for the hum of the crowd, loud even through all the walls. It’s mental. He can’t believe they’re doing this again, how fucking lucky they are. 

Harry slings his arm around Niall’s shoulder as they wind their way toward the stage.

“This is going to be even better than America,” Harry says, his mouth so close Niall can feel his lips against the shell of his ear.

“Better?” Niall raises his eyebrow as the crowd gets louder, the kind of roar Niall can feel in the soles of his feet. “Don’t know if that’s possible, Haz.”

Harry laughs and Niall can feel that, too. “We’ll just have to see, I guess.” He winks, his arm going tighter around Niall’s neck for a brief second. “But I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

**

It’s sick, really, how easy it is to fall back into the swing of things. And not just the touring aspect of it all, but the him-and-Harry parts, too. Niall’s not sure which he’d missed more during their time off. And now it doesn’t matter, because here they are, following nearly the same schedule as they had in America, days between shows they can dedicate solely to writing and shagging. It feels like they’re running a huge scam, all these people turning up night after night to see them fuck about on stage, this thing they’d started as a lark. He can’t believe it was only last year they even started talking about it.

“I think,” Harry slides his thumb along the seam of Niall’s jeans, close enough to his knee that it’s not indecent but high enough that Niall has to concentrate on Harry’s voice, on the fact that they’re in a pub and not a dressing room or a hotel room or anywhere private at all. Niall likes it, though, having this on top of everything else. Time for them to duck out for a drink or a bite and just. Whatever. Shoot the shit. For so long it’s been hours on a plane just to land on each other’s doorstep, desperate for a shag.

“What?” he asks, and Harry blinks. Niall covers Harry’s hand with his own, stilling it like that might help him focus. “You think?”

“I think we should try “Mixed Signals” live, no, wait,” he says when Niall groans. They’ve messing about with that one for so long, it never quite gelling right, “listen, I think we should like, slow it down a bit, just like --” He leans in close to hum, tapping a new beat against Niall’s leg, Niall humming along after a moment. It’s not perfect, probably needs to be tweaked, especially at the bridge, but it makes sense. Works so much better than what they’d been after.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, and Niall realizes he’s singing under his breath, his fingers drumming against his pint. 

“Think it’ll work really well,” Niall nods, bumping their shoulders together. Harry bumps him back, squeezing Niall’s leg for good measure. “It’s a good change.”

“You want me to tell Al we’re leaving early? Go back and sort it out?” Harry offers when Niall hasn’t stopped tapping the beat against his glass, unable to get the new arrangement out of his head. 

“The night’s young, Haz,” Niall twists Harry’s nipple, grinning at way Harry cheeks go pink and he presses his lips together while Niall waves for Al’s attention, “why limit ourselves? Good ideas deserve rewards, yeah?”

**

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry twitches when Niall pinches his side, mouth quirking up before he schools it into a scowl. Niall’s been baiting him all night, since well before they’d gone on stage, loving the way Harry’s eyes darken every time, how he has to visibly compose himself before he can do anything else. They’re weeks into the tour and it still hasn’t gotten old. He’s starting to wonder if it ever will.

Niall does it again, drags his fingers over Harry’s cock after, knowing his callouses drive Harry mad.

“If you don’t stop,” Harry threatens.

Niall raises his eyebrows. “You’ll what?”

He makes sure to keep his touch featherlight, grinning at the way Harry’s eyes flutter closed before he snaps back to life. He’s got Niall’s wrists in his hand before he knows what’s happening, Harry holding him still while stretching to grab one of his stupid scarves off the floor.

Niall starts laughing, his stomach dropping with anticipation. “That is _not_ coming near my mouth,” he says, leaning away.

“Defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” Harry says, smile playing at his lips, and then he’s pushing Niall’s arms, looping the fabric around them, Niall too stunned to do anything until it’s too late. 

“Fuck.” Niall pulls his wrists, testing. Harry’s not tied the greatest knots, everything loose enough that he could probably get out of it if he tried. If he really wanted to.

Harry waits for a moment like he’s giving Niall time to put a stop to it before he says, “Come on, then,” and slips off the bed to stand in front of Niall, his hand in Niall’s hair, guiding his cock into Niall’s mouth. “That’s it.” 

The bed’s low enough that the angle works, Niall curving his spine to take Harry’s cock in, as much as Harry gives him. 

“Shit,” Harry takes a shuddering breath, fingers petting Niall’s cheek where it’s bulging. Niall moans, dragging his tongue as best he can, the way he knows Haz likes. It works, Harry’s head falling back even as he tightens his hand in Niall’s hair, moving him slightly so that Harry has a better angle when he fucks Niall’s mouth, the both of them groaning. It’s impossible for Niall to do anything except go with it, trying his hardest to relax, letting Harry move him how he wants. Letting Harry hold him where he wants. 

It’s mental, maybe, but Niall doesn’t hate it. The burn in his shoulders and Harry’s grip on his hair. The way Haz moans like he can’t help it, like there’s nothing better than Niall choking on his dick.

“Fuck, Ni,” Harry pulls back and Niall coughs, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. Somehow Harry looks even more wrecked than Niall feels, his breathing ragged, his lip red and swollen from how hard he’d been biting it.

It’s hard without his arms for balance; Niall ends up sprawled on the bed after one push from Harry. “You’re so,” Harry doesn’t finish his thought, ducking down to snog Niall instead, rolling them so Niall’s arms aren’t pinned awkwardly.

“Haz.” Niall shudders when Harry runs his fingers down the cleft of his arse. He likes the way the scarf twists around his wrists when he moves, his muscles tensing at the dry press of Harry’s finger against his hole. He ducks his head so he’s mostly speaking into Harry’s neck, want swirling in his blood, making him dizzy, off-balance. “Haz.”

“Alright?” Harry touches Niall’s elbow, leaning far enough back that he can look at Niall without going cross-eyed. 

“Yeah, just,” Niall takes a deep breath, his voice gone hoarse. He’s lucky they haven’t got a show tomorrow. “You gotta make ‘em tighter,” he pulls at his wrists until Harry realizes, “you’re a bit shit at this.”

“Shut up.”

“Never would’ve made it as a sailor.” Niall shifts onto his front when Harry prods at his shoulder, trying not to think of the picture he makes, arse up, face down. He presses his hot cheek into the sheets while Harry reties the scarf. “Get all the mertwat tattoos you want, doesn’t matter if you can’t tie a bloody knot.”

“Wanker,” Harry says, Niall able to hear the way he’s struggling not to laugh. He finishes the knot, Niall inhaling when he pulls it taut. “Better?”

Niall nods, knowing without even testing it that it’s a thousand times better than earlier. Harry smooths his hand down Niall’s arm, his fingers hooking in the scarf briefly. Niall presses his forehead against the sheets, doesn’t know why it’s harder to breathe all of a sudden. 

“You just gonna stare all night?”

“Maybe.” Harry lets go, the mattress dipping as he moves. Niall feels overly warm, his cock leaking messily.

“Take a fucking picture,” he says, trying to flip Harry off despite his hands being bound. Harry bursts out laughing and Niall lifts his head, twisting so he can glare at Harry and nearly overbalancing with it. Harry steadies him automatically.

“Sorry,” Harry says when Niall ends up with lube all over his hip.

“S’fine, just,” Niall wishes he had his hands, wishes he could do anything but squirm until Harry finally gets on with it, his finger slipping into Niall easily, “thank fucking Christ.”

Harry laughs, nipping at Niall’s fingers, his free hand on the back on Niall’s neck holding him in place. It’s torture, plain and simple, the way Niall can’t get any real leverage to rock back against Harry’s fingers, how he’s stuck with the pace Harry’s setting. He chokes on nothing when Harry withdraws his fingers, his whole body tense with need. His back and shoulders are starting to ache but it’s nothing compared to the way his cock is aching at how long it’s been neglected.

“Still with me?” 

“Yeah,” Niall nods into the sheets, letting out a string of curses when he feels the blunt press of Harry’s cock, getting louder when Harry stops and pulls out of Niall completely. “What the fucking fuck?”

“Hang on,” Harry says, somehow managing to sound exasperated with his dick poking Niall’s arsecheek, and then he’s got his hands on Niall’s shoulders, carefully hauling him up, manhandling him until, “better?”

Niall holds his breath, letting his head loll back onto Harry’s shoulder once Harry bottoms out. It’s possible he sighs with relief but it’s more all the air leaving his lungs in one fell swoop. “Fucking hell, Haz.”

Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to Niall’s cheek. From this angle it’s more of a slow grind than anything, Niall trying to rock down on Harry’s dick, trusting Harry’ll hold them both up. 

“Can you,” Niall gasps when Harry mouths at the column of his neck, his cock twitching, and Jesus, it’s been forever, all fucking night, “Haz, please.” 

The first touch of his slick hand around Niall’s cock has Niall thinking he’ll come immediately. He doesn’t think he’d care, not at this point. His fingers twitch, scratching at Harry’s stomach as he arches his back, trying to get Harry to move his hand or his hips, just do _something_.

He can feel the way Harry’s thighs are shaking a bit.

“Harry, c’mon,” Niall shifts, urging him the only way he can. He turns his head, presses a shaky kiss to the underside of Harry’s chin, his jaw, groaning when Harry finally starts wanking him properly. He doesn’t understand how Harry comes first, his arm going tight around Niall’s waist, holding him still. As if Niall could go anywhere. He’s coming before Harry’s even finished, his whole body tensing, making Harry bite down hard on his shoulder.

“Jesus,” Niall says after, wincing as he stretches his arms, wondering if he’ll be sore tomorrow, more than usual, “gonna have a fucking mark for a week.”

“Sorry.” Harry sounds sheepish. He kisses the spot quickly, dragging Niall down for a cuddle, stroking his hands down Niall’s sides as they both come down. “Well,” he says after a minute, reaching for something behind Niall’s back, “I know one way you could cover it up.”

“No,” Niall says immediately. Harry waves the scarf in his face, eyebrows waggling. 

“Niall, hey, no!” he yelps when Niall snatches it from him, rolling them so he’s straddling Harry, the both of them laughing as Harry struggles, “not in my mouth! It’s vintage McQueen, don’t!”

**

“Having problems?” Niall watches as Harry walks in a slow circle around the room service cart, trying to find an angle of his breakfast worth instagramming, chuckling when he gives up entirely.

“The light’s no good.”

“Do you really need light for black and white pictures?”

Harry swats at Niall’s head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Lies,” Niall says. “The mic stand two days ago.”

“I don’t do it _all_ the time.”

Niall rolls his eyes, drops a kiss on the back of Harry’s neck while leaning over him for a croissant. Harry’s still all gross from the gym. Niall probably should’ve gone with him this morning, but.

“Oh, is this my playlist?” Harry looks lit up from within when he realizes what’s been playing. “I thought you hated these songs!”

“Not all of them.” Niall reaches for his phone, scrolling until he finds one he doesn’t skip every time. “This one’s not bad.”

“Not bad.” Harry scoffs, a section of orange halfway to his mouth. “Not bad!” He starts dancing, his arms and legs flailing in completely different directions, Niall laughing hysterically the whole time. He manages to start recording it just as Harry throws in a hop and a spin, arm motions a bit like that dance he and Zayn used to do back in the day. 

“Is that a fucking ukulele?” Niall asks when the second verse kicks in and Harry stops dancing to roll his eyes, the argument so familiar they could have it in their sleep. He chucks his sweaty vest at Niall before dancing into the toilet for a shower, shaking his arse as he goes.

Niall clips the best part of the video, types out _u know u miss this_ and sends it to Zayn without a second thought. He’s not expecting his phone to ring as he and Haz are stumbling out of the shower.

“You are the absolute worst,” Zayn says as soon as Niall answers.

“What’s that? You hate the song that was in the video I sent you?” Niall laughs at the face Harry makes, ducking out of Harry’s reach. He doesn’t manage to avoid Harry’s slap, rubbing the red mark on his chest, cursing under his breath. Harry sticks his lower lip out, looking apologetic. Niall leans back when Harry takes a step towards him, a look on his face like he only knows one way to make it up to Niall. He chucks a pair of clean pants at Harry, only relaxing when Harry ducks back into the toilet.

“Wait, what?” Niall asks, Zayn still ranting in his ear. 

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a ten second clip and he threw a fit when I turned it off after two minutes. So thanks a lot.”

Niall bursts out laughing, Zayn’s stony silence only making it funnier. “Sorry, it’s just, really? Harry dancing to that shit song?”

“I dunno,” Zayn sighs and Niall doesn’t have to try hard to picture him sat on his sofa amid a sea of toys, CBeebies on a touch too loud, Laser screaming his head off over a vid of Harry doing his best impersonation of a windsock. “It was funny at first and then.”

Niall laughs again. It’s not even noon and Zayn sounds exhausted. He can hear that damn song playing in the background again like Laser’s somewhere nearby watching it. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, well. Jesus, two kids, I,” Zayn’s voice fades out, like he’s yawning or has his face crammed into the cushions. Or both. “A fucking madhouse, bro.”

Something happens to make Laser shriek, Zayn sighing heavily, his voice softer as he says, “You hit the screen, babes, don’t touch it if you don’t want it to go away. Sorry,” he comes back on the phone, “what were you saying?”

“Nothing,” Niall laughs. It’s not the first time he’s amazed at how different their lives are now. “Sounds like someone needs a nap, is all.”

“Nah, he’s --”

“I meant you.”

There’s a beat before Zayn laughs, like his brain is struggling to process the joke. “Shut up.”

“Get some sleep, Malik,” Niall says before ringing off. “I think Zayn’s so tired he’s seeing double,” he yells, Harry appearing in the doorway with his pants slung low.

“How about I make _you_ see double?”

“That was terrible,” Niall laughs, Harry throwing his leg over Niall’s lap, pushing him back against the pillows, “absolute rubbish.”

“Worked, though,” Harry says, his hair dripping everywhere as the rest of Niall’s protests die in his throat.

&&&

“You need more than a live album, though,” Liam says, his voice tinny over speakerphone, Niall making a _blah blah blah_ motion with his hand that has Harry hiding his face in his sleeve.

“You need more than a live album,” Louis says, not a minute later. 

“Is there an echo on the call?” Harry asks. 

“I just said that, Louis,” Liam says. Louis makes a sound like he genuinely hadn’t realized. 

Niall and Harry shoot each other a look because it’s fucking weird, having Louis and Liam in different places while on the same call. 

“You do, though,” Louis says once he's recovered, launching into a slightly different version of the speech Liam’s just given them, about revenue and continued interest. It’s stupid, honestly, and Harry thinks if they’re going to be distracted, he and Niall can, too. He moves over on the sofa until he’s close enough to worm his hand into Niall’s trousers, keeping up pretenses by humming at all the right parts in Louis’s speech.

“Alright, fine, we’ll think about it!” Niall yells and hangs up the phone, his face redder than Harry’s ever seen it. “What the shit?!”

Harry lets his grip around Niall’s cock go loose. “No?”

“No, you horny bastard! Not while we’re on the fucking phone with Liam and Louis!” Niall yells while he shoves his pants down, reaching for Harry. “Jesus Christ.”

“I”m getting a lot of mixed signals here,” Harry says, scrambling to kick his jeans off even though Niall’s left his bunched around his knees. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Do you want to record?” he asks, because they have been talking about it lately. Louis and Liam have been on them about it for awhile now, and their arguments make sense. They’re nearly to the first break in this tour, it’s probably time to start seriously considering it.

“Not right now,” Niall grits out.

“No, obviously, shithead,” Harry rolls his eyes even as he remembers the version of “Little White Lies” they’d laid down over the summer. The version Niall’d sent him that hadn’t had any singing at all. “I meant like, in general.”

Niall stops, palms Harry’s arse but doesn’t do anything else. “I guess it’d make sense.”

Harry must make a face because Niall chuckles, says, “No, I meant like… I don’t want to do it like we used to, stuck in shite closets with a mattress up against the walls. Wanna do it proper, like. Not in the wee hours when we’re not performing.”

“Well,” Harry sits back, resting his weight on Niall’s thighs, “you do need your beauty sleep.”

“Exactly,” Niall laughs. “What about you?”

“I’m already beautiful.” He laughs when Niall pinches his arse. “The same, I think. They’re right, probably, that we should do one.”

“Somewhere Tommo’s just got the urge to throw a fucking parade.”

Harry laughs, reaching for Niall’s cock again. “You wanna call him back, say we discussed it, or…”

“Or,” Niall makes a face, eyes going dark as he watches Harry lick his own palm, “definitely or. Are you fucking insane?”

“Yup,” Harry laughs, scooting closer so he can both their cocks in his hand before Niall says anything else.

**

“Son of a bitch.”

Harry flinches. Hearing Al curse is a bit like hearing it from Robin, so rare that when it happens it’s actually a bit scary.

Through the windshield Harry can see there’s a mob gathering outside their hotel. Al inhales sharply before making a left, taking them down one of the side streets.

“Someone must’ve tweeted,” Niall says, his fingers stretching across the back seat until they meet Harry’s. Harry hooks his pinkie over Niall’s, hoping it’s reassuring.

“Looks like,” Al says, sounding distracted. Crowds like this are rare these days. “I’ll take you around back instead.”

“Least it wasn’t yesterday.” Harry’s glad they’d gotten all the way through the show at least. He hates having to change hotels at the last minute.

“Right.” They’re stopped at a light when Al asks, “Whose room will you be in tonight? We have to be careful about this.”

There’s a half-measure of silence where Harry feels acutely aware of his own heartbeat, of Niall’s breathing, the way their hands are overlapping on the seat between them. Every dressing room blow job flashes through his mind, every time he and Niall were late to the car or wanted to leave somewhere early.

“What?” Harry asks, the same time Niall says, “Al.”

Harry forces a laugh, wondering if it sounds as hysterical as it feels. “What?”

“Cut the shit.” Al sounds the same way he does when Harry gets too close to the edge of the stage or when he takes too long getting into the car at the airport, his tone clipped, all-business. “Whose room?”

“Niall’s,” Harry says, the words sticking in his throat.

Al’s only visible reaction is a single nod. “Alright. We’re still leaving at two tomorrow, so unless that changes, just stay put, got it?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, turning his hand over until he’s holding Harry’s hand properly. He squeezes once. Harry doesn’t look at him.

“Yeah,” Harry echoes. “Got it.”

**

“Well.” Niall stops just inside the doorway of his room. He looks like Harry feels, pale and wild-eyed. “Fuck.”

The drop-off had been tense. Harry can’t tell how much of it was from the crowd chanting out front and how much was his own sheer panic. 

“How long do you think he’s known for?” Niall asks. 

“Oh god.” Harry laughs hollowly. It’s horrifying to think about. Niall chuckles when Harry visibly shudders. 

“Right? ‘s fucked up. I…” 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, even though Niall’s not said anything. He doesn’t need to. 

After a minute Harry sighs, a bit of the adrenaline draining out of his body. Now he’s mostly feeling run down. “Could’ve gone worse, I guess.” 

He can tell Niall’s also remembering the dozens of meetings they’ve sat through over the years, about discretion and representing a brand and what it means to be public figures. 

“True. Didn’t ask any questions, either, thank fuck. Don’t wanna know how we’d deal with those.”

Just thinking about trying to answer any questions makes Harry feel sick. Judging by his pinched expression, Niall feels the same way. 

“We’ll just,” Harry takes a deep breath, “be more careful? Like, when non-Al people are around.” 

“Like who, hotel staff? The crew? Al’s the only one we see anymore. Well, only one we see regularly, at least.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah.” Niall twists Harry’s nipple gently, lets his hand drift down until his fingers are tangled in the hem of Harry’s shirt. ”Got a good thing here, Haz. Don’t want anybody messing with our flow.”

“Shhh. Don’t ruin a nice moment.” Harry covers Niall’s mouth carefully, the queasiness slowly fading. It’ll probably come back in full force the second he sees Al but for now it’s fine. As long as he and Niall are on the same page, everything’s fine.

**

Al doesn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t so much as look at them differently, not even once, and Harry is equal parts relieved and appalled. How long has he known for that there’s no reaction? 

“What other secrets do you think he knows?” Niall asks, the two of them whispering in the car to the airport. Harry moves closer because fuck it, if Al knows then why bother leaving a foot of extra space between them.

He watches the rearview, waiting to see if Al reacts. After a moment, Niall sets his hand on Harry’s leg, higher than normal. Harry holds his breath. Nothing happens. When he looks over, Niall shrugs. 

“Hey, Al, can we get some music in here? As much as I love hearing Harry think…”

“Heyyy,” Harry frowns, making both Niall and Al laugh, “Little Lies” coming on, a playlist Harry remembers making featuring only songs they both approved of. _Traveling in Styl(an)_ , he’d called it. First time he saw, Niall threatened to throw his phone in the Channel.

“Heyyy,” Niall mocks, laughing harder at the face Harry makes before ducking forward, kissing Harry quickly. He grins after, Harry’s eyes cutting to the front where Al’s only focused on the road. 

Niall pats Harry’s leg, sinking into the seat, all three of them humming along with the radio, everything and nothing feeling different all at the same time.

**

“Bonjour!” Niall yells to the crowd for the fifteenth time that night. They lose their minds every time he says it, though, so Harry doesn’t see him stopping anytime soon. “I don’t know if you knew this,” he says, stalling so Harry can get settled, “but we used to be in a different band.”

“We go way back, don’t we, Niall?” Harry tunes his guitar while they talk. Strums a few chords. Takes a slow, calming breath. 

“Just a bit,” Niall says, it getting lost in the cheer of the crowd. “Anyway, some of you might know this next one.”

“Be kind, please,” Harry says, looking out over the crowd, “it’s our first time performing it and some of us --”

“You.”

“-- are a bit nervous about it because they weren’t born with a guitar in their hands.”

“You got this,” Niall says, soft enough that Harry can’t tell if it’s even meant for the crowd to hear. Niall winks, waiting for Harry to nod that he’s ready, before they start their reworked cover of “Girl Almighty.”

Harry catches Niall watching him, the intensity of his gaze sending Harry’s fingers slipping along the fretboard as he sings Zayn’s old solo a cappella. Niall holds his gaze all the way through the chorus, Harry nearly going mad with it. He’s grateful that the crowd knows the words, everyone singing along, because Harry can barely get the lyrics out, his mouth gone bone dry at the dark look in Niall’s eyes as he’d promised to get down on his knees. He has to close his eyes, focus on the chords. 

_Fuck_ he mouths once it’s over, Niall’s laugh ringing out over the crowd. Harry’s hands are shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s adrenaline or what, but he feels unsteady for the rest of the show.

**

“Fuck,” he says, pushing Niall out of the car, Al laughing behind them, Harry not bloody caring. He feels reckless, wants to shove Niall up against the wall of the lift and snog him. He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing.

“Y’alright there, Haz?” Niall smirks, acts like he’s got no clue, leaned up against the door frame while Harry fumbles with the lock. Harry’d tried for a go right after they got off stage but Niall’d pulled the same innocent act then, barely having time for a quick snog before he was ducking into the shower. 

Harry fixes him with a look before he pushes the door open, ignoring the way Niall hums the chorus of “Girl Almighty” again. He feels worked up in a way he hasn’t since tour started and he and Niall were finally back in the habit of getting off together constantly. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Niall brushes his knuckle against Harry’s cheek. “You’re looking a little peaky.”

“You’re looking peaky.” Harry’s never been gladder for his height advantage than he is now, able to get Niall pinned against the door with no trouble at all. For a second he thinks Niall’s going to argue back, Harry bracing himself for it, but Niall just curls his hand around Harry’s neck and drags him in for a kiss.

“Was a good show tonight, yeah?” Niall puts space between them so he can get his kit off, Harry wanting to kiss him for having such a brilliant idea. He settles for stripping as fast as possible.

“One of the best yet.” Harry takes a second to tug on his cock. He’s been half-hard for ages, feels like. He watches Niall watch him, feels his blood thrumming. The way Niall had stared at him on stage flashes through his mind and Harry makes an involuntary noise, feels his cock fill up a bit more. 

He doesn’t know what’s got him so worked up, an itch he can’t scratch burrowed deep under his skin. Niall’s stretching across the bed, searching for lube, when Harry traces his fingers over the new pink marks on Niall’s back, smiling at how Niall shivers at his touch. It makes him want to take him apart.

“Budge up,” he says, patting Niall’s hip, waiting for him to get the idea. Niall always goes tense in the seconds before Harry licks over his hole, like he’s bracing himself for a shock. Harry smiles when Niall relaxes into it, groaning like he’s been waiting for this his whole life.

“Do you think -- does this count as me down on my knees for you? Or you for me? Or both?” Harry asks in between long, slow licks, Niall quivering under his fingers and mouth. 

“What are you on about?” Niall gasps out. Harry hums, working his tongue in alongside two fingers, the tune getting drowned out by the way Niall groans, so many curse words strung together Harry’s actually impressed. Niall’s so responsive when he’s like this; Harry’s not sure he’ll ever get over it. Not that he even wants to. 

Niall pushes back against Harry, working his hips in a way that Harry knows means he’s jerking himself, too. The noise he makes when he comes, Harry’d put it on their album if he could find a way. 

“Gimme like, two minutes,” Niall rolls over, holding up five fingers, “and I’ll --” 

“ _Five_ minutes?” Harry’s already got his fist around his cock. Five minutes is four minutes and fifty-nine seconds too long, honestly. “I -- you -- all night!” 

“You’re not the one who had to take a cold shower after,” Niall laughs, shifting until he’s close enough to replace Harry’s hand with his own. “Barely made it through the bloody show, Haz, with you looking at me like that.”

“You were,” Harry says. 

Niall shakes his head. “All you. You and that fucking guitar. I swear to God.” 

Harry digs his nails into Niall’s arm as he comes, Niall’s harmony on _I get down on my knees for you_ looping in his head like he might never get it out. 

“So,” Niall says, using the bedsheet to wipe jizz off his stomach. “We’ll tell Liam to clear “Girl Almighty” for the album?” 

“Well,” Harry feels like jelly as he curls around Niall, laughing into his neck, “obviously.” 

**

“Louis wants to know _why_ we can’t just record the same songs as the live album,” Harry says, tossing his phone onto the table before falling onto the sofa next to Niall.

“Because that’d be stupid?”

“S’what I said, apparently that’s not a good enough reason, but whatever. He wants a list of songs before we go on break next week. For prep or whatever.”

“I’ll send him one in the morning,” Niall says, unbothered. “It’ll be a list of every bloody song we’ve performed, say we’re still trying to pick our favorites.”

Harry laughs. Louis and Liam -- the label, technically, though Harry has trouble thinking of them as anything other than Louis and Liam -- agreed to their recording terms pretty easily, at least in terms of _where_ they’ll be recording. Everything else is still up in the air. Well. Most everything. Liam’s sworn up and down he’ll work on getting them the rights to “Girl Almighty.”

So they’ve got one thing nailed down, then. Harry doesn’t see why that’s not enough.

“Or we could wait,” Niall says. “Storm in there first thing Monday morning, hash it out face-to-face.”

“With what, me on Skype?” Harry snorts. “Think that’d ruin the effect, wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“Because I’ll be in LA?”

“No shit.” 

“Yes shit. We talked about it.” At least Harry thinks they did. It had been in that whirlwind period of tour prep, Harry and Niall fielding dozens of calls a day, both of them going a bit crazy from it. He has to go home, even if it’s just for a little bit, just to check on things.

“Guess I,” Niall scratches his stomach, “must’ve forgot, I dunno.” 

The look on his face makes Harry feel unsettled. “It’s only for the first half, though. Then I’ve got a suite booked at Casa del Horan. I ordered the spa package.” He pokes Niall’s side, anxious for a smile. “I hope my massage comes with a happy ending.” 

That does the trick, Niall rolling his eyes as he laughs, “Better leave a good tip, then.” 

“And five stars on airbnb,” Harry promises, nosing at Niall’s cheek. “But only if I get my happy ending.”

“Will you take those in advance?” Niall asks, sliding his hand under the hem of Harry’s shirt. There’s half an hour until they’re due on stage and Louis’ll probably call back before then, but Harry doesn’t care about that. Not right now, at least.

He taps his finger against Niall’s chin. “I could be persuaded,” he says, and lets Niall press him backwards into the sofa.

**

The weirdness that comes with being home alone dissipates once Harry’s back in the studio, burying himself in a new song and the giddy rush that comes with everything gelling. 

It’d been strange at first, writing without Niall, but John’d called him personally and Harry couldn’t very well say no. Not when John was asking for help on the soundtrack of what’s shaping up to be next year’s hottest teen love story, if the emails John’s cc’ed him on are to be believed. 

“What about this, like,” Harry slides his notebook over the piano, laughing when John makes a face. 

“The fuck is that, are those even words?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Guess I’ve gotten used to only writing with Niall, forgot to use like --”

“Legible writing?” 

Harry laughs again, doesn’t bother explaining the shorthand he and Niall’ve come up with over the past year, knowing that it makes them both look a bit mental. Instead he just takes the book back, motioning for John to start playing so he can share what he’s come up with. 

Time loses all meaning when Harry’s in the studio but he’s still surprised to see the sun when he finally packs his things and heads home. He’s got a text from Niall waiting, too, a pic Willie must’ve taken of Niall manning the barbecue, bundled in a hoodie like they’re milking the last of the good weather before winter rolls in for good.

Harry sends back a pic of the blue sky and a sliver of a palm tree just to be a dick. 

He’s just gotten home when his phone buzzes with a picture of Laser hugging Hatchi, their faces blurry like at least one of them was struggling. 

_SEEN IT ALREADY_ , Harry sends back, because Niall’d shown him that one right away, the two of them pissed in some bar in Oslo when it’d come through. _BUT NICE TRY_

Niall sends back a blushing emoji and then four huge smilies before he asks _How’d it go?_

 _Smashed it!_ he sends. _We’ve already booked another sesh to finalize everything during our next break_

_Siiiiiiick_

If Harry feels ridiculous sitting in his parked car, grinning at his phone as a wave of music notes and confetti come through, well. Whatever.

&&&

It’s more relaxing than Niall had thought it would be, puttering around his house by himself for a week. Turns out being on the road is more exhausting than he’d realized. Plus he's missed his bed and his shower and the luxury of certain things, like having his own fridge and fifteen different golf channels on the telly. He likes being _home_ , having his own space, which his why he gets that Harry’s gone back to his place for a bit, too. Yeah, it’s shit, but. Whatever.

Besides, it’s not like Harry’s fallen off the face of the earth. It’s easy enough to revert to their old ways, texting enough that Niall’s sure they’re up-to-date on every aspect of each other’s lives, from Haz complaining about the state of his garden and LA traffic to Niall wondering how the fuck half of Harry’s dirty laundry ended up in Niall’s suitcase.

If Niall misses him it's only because he's gotten used to seeing him every second of every day. He'd miss his right arm if it up and fucked off to LA for a week, too. 

**

“You look like shit.” 

“Cheers.” Niall’s prone on the sofa, eyes closed while he Skypes with Harry. It feels like it’s been ages since they saw each other, Niall not sure if this even counts. Circumstances could certainly be better. “Went out with the LIC last night. Things got a bit… out of hand.”

Harry laughs. “You're old now, is what it is.”

“Fuck you,” Niall tries not to think about how hard it had been just to make it out of his bedroom earlier, possibly more hungover than he’s been in his entire life, “I’m only twenty-five.”

“Niall Horan,” Harry pitches his voice to sound like a presenter, “this is your quarterlife crisis!” 

Niall flips off the computer even though he's doing a shit job of not smiling at Harry, even with his eyes closed. 

“See you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yaaaaay,” Niall says quietly, cracking one eye open in time to see Harry blow him a kiss before signing off. Niall passes out before he can be arsed to turn the telly back on.

**

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Louis says, pulling Niall into a hug first. “When I said around four I meant four in the afternoon. Most of us keep regular hours now, you know.”

“Sorry. Didn’t think your text to pop round for tea had a set-in-stone time, Tommo.” Niall takes the beer Liam’s offering him, drinking to tamp down the flush spreading across his neck as he thinks of why, exactly, he and Harry are so late.

“Plus, we figured we’d beat Zayn no matter what,” Harry says.

“Wrong,” Zayn says from a chair in the corner and Harry’s whole face lights up as he books it across the room for a hug, complaining about how long it’s been since since all five of them have been in the same place at once.

“Seriously.” Niall elbows Liam gently. “Can’t believe you fuckers haven’t come to see any of our shows.”

“We saw the first half of that one,” Liam says.

“You’re doing a whole leg of UK shows next month,” Zayn adds. “Why would I fly out to see you lot?”

“Because you love us?” Niall says, the _duh_ implied. 

Zayn shakes his head, biting his lip to keep the grin at bay while Harry squeezes into Zayn’s chair, asking why Laser’s not here with him. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just chugs his beer like he might never get one again. 

“I thought you were gonna be _less_ tired nowadays,” Louis says while Harry cards his fingers through Zayn’s fringe, the both of them looking like they could pass out right there. At least Harry’s got jet lag as an excuse. 

“Why?” Zayn asks, jaw working like he’s fighting a yawn. “Pretty sure I’ll be tired for the next eighteen years.”

“Sixteen, if Laser joins a band and moves out.”

“What?” Zayn blanches. “Liam --”

“You know, like we did!”

“-- why would you --”

“It was a joke!”

“Alright, everyone calm down!” Louis puts his arms out like a referee. “He can’t even shit in a toilet yet, he’s not moving out for at least a few more years, yeah? Here, drink this.” He gives Zayn a second beer, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. 

“I don’t get a drink?” Harry makes a face.

“You would have, but I just gave it to Zayn.” Louis laughs, flicking Harry’s nose when he scowls.

Harry rustles up his own drink, making a face at Niall, who makes one back while Liam tries to apologize to Zayn. It’s absurd how easily they all fall back into it, even after long stretches of time. Niall can’t remember the last time it was all of them like this. Over a year, at least. And yet it’s like no time’s passed at all, Harry and Niall pulling faces while Louis drums on the table to get everyone’s attention, no one paying him any mind at all.

“Oi,” he snaps his fingers when Zayn gets distracted by Bruce, “I have an announcement, if you lot want to shut up for five seconds.”

Harry scoots along the sofa to stage whisper, “He probably _isn’t_ going to accidentally convince us he’s dying, right?” in Niall’s ear, making both Niall and Liam snicker. Louis glares at them. 

“ELEANOR AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED,” he yells. Harry promptly drops his beer.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Niall says, his face splitting into a grin. He can’t get up because Harry’s apparently lost all control of his limbs, keeps knocking over the bottle he’s trying to pick up.

“You hid this from me?” Liam asks, somehow having the presence of mind to drop a pile of napkins on the mess Harry’s made. “How? I see you every day!”

“We have secrets, Payno.”

“When?” Zayn asks. Louis shrugs.

“Not that long ago, really. We were just talking one night, and it… It felt like the right time to do it.”

“It’s not very romantic,” Harry says.

“Well _excuse me_ ,” Louis makes a face, “we can’t all hire a string quartet and drench a garden in fairy lights.”

“No, I meant when’s the _wedding_ ,” Zayn says, “because like, I dunno how free I’ll be once the baby comes.”

“He’ll be two,” Louis says, “I think he can manage a night out,” just as Liam sticks his arm out, his voice sounding stuck in his throat when he says, “The… baby?”

“Not Laser, arsehole,” Zayn says, in the same disdainful tone Louis’s just used.

“The _baby_?” Niall doesn’t know why his own voice is as high as it is. Even Harry’s gaping, stunned silent. 

“I told you this.” Zayn crosses his arms, annoyed.

“No,” Louis is terrifyingly calm, “no, I would’ve remembered you telling me Pez was knocked up again.”

“I told _someone_ ,” Zayn says. He looks at Liam next, and then Harry, both of them helplessly shaking their heads. Niall blinks, feeling dazed as he vaguely remembers Zayn on the phone, moaning about two kids and that video of Harry dancing all in one breath.

“Um.” Niall scratches his arm. 

“You knew?” Louis is a color Niall didn't know was possible in humans. 

“I thought you were just like, really tired and confused and _thought_ you had two kids or some shit!” 

Harry slumps back into the sofa like his body can’t handle this much information at once. Niall gets it. He suddenly feels like the oxygen in the room’s gone thin, like he’s on the verge of an asthma attack.

“This is the GREATEST DAY,” Liam shouts suddenly, popping out of his seat, reaching for Zayn with one arm and Louis with the other, pulling them both into a hug, kissing the tops of their heads over and over.

“ _Zayn_.” Harry’s strangely pale but his eyes are all bright and possibly a bit wet. “How long have you known?”

Zayn shrugs. “Like… four months, about?” 

“FOUR MONTHS?” Louis’s voice has gone completely shrill as he tugs on the ends of his hair. Liam hugs him and Zayn closer as a distraction. 

Niall takes a long pull of his beer, feeling weirdly off-balance. He and Harry go back on tour in three days. Louis has a wedding to plan and Zayn’s gonna have two kids by summer. It shouldn't be a surprise. Shouldn't be anything other than fantastic news. 

“Married, Louis, this…” Liam lets go of Zayn to hug Louis properly, his arms wrapping all the way around Louis until he looks like he might actually be struggling. 

“THANK YOU!” Louis yells, once Liam lets go. “You are all supposed to be like Liam!” 

He glares at them each in turn, frowning when Liam turns and hugs Zayn so hard he actually lifts off the ground. “Liam!” Louis hits him in the back of the arm, “Tell the truth, are you happier about my news or Zayn’s?” 

Liam hesitates a touch too long, long enough that Niall himself steels for the blow, the back of Louis's hand connecting with Liam’s dick, doubling him over while Liam shrieks, “It’s a TIE, fuck’s sake, Louis!” and Zayn takes a step back and then another, until he's tucked safely against Harry's side. 

“Alright, c'mon,” Niall says, stepping in after a minute, “Maybe let’s leave Payno alone in case he wants to have his own kids one day.” 

Liam beams at that, his face an open book. “Christ, I have to -- is it alright to tell Soph about this?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, “it's cool, just maybe not like…” He hesitates. 

“Haz won't say anything on stage, if that's what you're worried about,” Niall says. 

“Heyyyy,” Harry makes a face at Niall, “I wouldn't.”

“I know.” Niall makes a face back, feeling slightly less adrift. Zayn leans in to whisper something that makes Haz's face light up. Niall turns back to Louis. “Have you got pics of the ring?” 

“Yeah, tell us the whole story,” Liam adds, keeping a careful distance away. 

“Not much to tell. We were eating dinner, it seemed like as good a time as any. I mean, we’ve been together how many years?” He glares when Zayn snorts.

“Sorry, it's just… Sorry. Let’s see the ring, yeah?”

They all crowd around to look at Louis’s phone. “She picked it out the next day.”

Harry’s jaw drops. “You didn't even have the ring when you proposed?” 

“She picked a good one, though,” Niall says, wrapping his arm around Louis’s waist before he can get too stroppy.

“She did alright.” There's something twitching in the corner of Louis’s jaw that makes Niall dart forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Congrats, mate. It’s about time.” 

He catches Harry's eye, sees him smiling widely, and something in Niall's stomach feels heavy all of a sudden. He's desperate to be back on tour in that moment, just the two of them fucking about, none of this shouting or drama. He disentangles himself from Louis and makes his way around their small circle. 

“Mate.” Zayn is pliant in his arms, tired and happy all at once. “ _Two_.” 

“I know.” Zayn laughs, tucking his face into Niall's neck. “It’s mental.” 

“When's the big day, then?” Harry asks, hugging Louis and dragging him onto the sofa like an octopus. 

“That depends, apparently.” Louis manages to sound peevish even as he's grinning from ear-to-ear. “Any other knocked-up birds I should know about?” 

Zayn flips him off but even he’s smiling a little. 

“Winter, after the hols,” Louis says, looking back at Harry. “Near your birthday, if that's alright?”

“Of course,” Harry says, at the same time Zayn nods. 

“Sounds perfect, Lou,” he says, untangling himself from Niall to flop on top of Louis on the sofa, doing something that makes him squirm and bellow, the two of them lost in a flurry of limbs while Harry cries out for help underneath them.

**

“Never thought I’d be this glad to be back on the road,” Harry says, falling face-first onto the hotel bed.

“Was a crazier break than usual.” The last bit had been crammed full of meetings, talk of the album and what comes next, everything raising more questions than Niall wanted to deal with this week. Getting back to the tour feels a bit like a reprieve, feels like those first relaxing days of the break had, only better.

“Unbelievable, really.”

It seems like Harry’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t, just smiles at Niall across a sea of pillows. His eyes blink slower and slower, until all Niall can think about is the welcome quiet of the room, Harry’s soft breathing and his hand, heavy and solid where it’s resting Niall’s chest.

**

Niall doesn’t get how it feels that this tour is going so much faster than the last one, he and Harry barely done with one city before they’re in another.

“I knew we’d regret adding in those dates,” Harry says one night after a shag, the two of them trying to gather up the energy for a shower. 

“Eight extra dates,” Niall rolls his eyes, turning so Harry can see him do it, “that really made a big difference.”

“You know what I mean.” Harry shrugs, his fingers drifting down Niall’s arm. “Once we hit Germany it’s only another week ‘til break.”

“Think we just got back from break.”

“We did.” Harry laughs. “almost three weeks ago.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Niall, you’re supposed to be the expert at this, I cannot believe I’m being forced to pick up the slack.” Harry pokes at Niall’s hip. “This is untoward.”

“You’re untoward.”

“Your _face_ is-” Harry starts, Niall cutting him off with a kiss. 

“Gonna shut up now?” Niall can feel Harry grin against his mouth.

“Make me.”

&&&

“Lads!” It takes Harry a minute to realize exactly what’s happening, that it’s not a hologram and Liam really did just stride into their dressing room backstage, big grin plastered on his face. “It’s a right mess outside, have you seen them queuing up?”

“What-” Niall’s hands pause on his guitar where he’s been messing about, he and Harry arguing over the key change in the new song they’re hoping might work on the album. “Liam. What?”

“What?” Harry echoes, fidgeting with his water bottle and returning Liam’s tight hug as he stands to meet him halfway. “Where’s Louis?”

“I do travel alone sometimes, mate,” Liam laughs, ruffling Niall’s hair when he sits down next to him on the lounger. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s a clause in your contracts, you two come as a pair.” Niall snorts, catching Harry’s eye before turning to face Liam, shifting the guitar in his lap as he does. It reminds Harry that Niall’s flies are probably still undone from earlier, Harry tugging him off quick before Niall’d mumbled that they had to get _something_ done before they went on stage.

“Could say the same for you two,” Liam’s eyes crinkle up when he points between them, something dropping in Harry’s stomach. “Anyway, it’s been all go since Louis’s….”

“Since his what? His grand announcement?” Niall laughs, “things been not the best around the office?”

“Erm,” Liam shrugs, “Louis is ace at planning tours and the like, you know? Proper great. Best at strategy, knows how to-”

“Annoy the shit out of the talent?” Niall interjects, grinning over at Harry when he sits cautiously in the chair across from them, still wondering why Liam is _there_. 

“Oi,” Harry kicks at Niall’s foot, “clearly Liam’s having marriage problems, we should listen.”

“But Soph and I are great-” Liam starts, looking confused for a moment before sighing, loudly, “alright, no need to take the piss, I’m just here for a bit of a break. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that Louis doesn’t do so well when it comes to planning a wedding.”

“That why he’s been sending more emails this week about us doing radio promo?” Niall reaches for his phone, swiping at the screen while Harry still tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Liam is sitting there, “here, let me read you the texts he sent earlier.”

“I don’t,” Liam holds up his hands, laughing, “I was with him when he sent them, so. It was before I left to catch the flight.”

“Did he send you then?” Harry takes Niall’s phone from him, glancing down and skimming over the texts Niall’s got on his screen. He wasn’t quite paying attention earlier when Niall was reading them, too bothered with trying to convince Niall they _did_ have time and Al really was down the hall instead of outside the door like usual. “Wait, did Louis really call me Twatty Styles? Niall.”

“Keep reading, he gets real creative.” Niall clears his throat loud then though, and Harry looks up, Liam eyeing them both warily like he’s working up to well annoyed. “Anyway, Payno, it’s just odd, you showing up without a call beforehand.”

“Felt like a bit of a break, that’s all. Was too busy to really go on a lads trip to your last tour, yeah?” Liam shrugs, and Harry feels like the world’s biggest shit for any bit of annoyance he felt when Liam had strode through the door. Knows how Louis can get, thinks back to Liam’s face when they were all together last. Harry gets it, that rubbish feeling like you’re standing still even when you’re not.

“Yeah, Liam,” Harry flicks his gaze over to Niall, who meets his eyes and nods, eyes wide, “it’ll be proper nice.”

“How long you with us, Payno? ‘fraid to say, I don’t think your name would fit in right.” Niall screws up his face, thinking, and Harry starts laughing.

“Stylane? No, that’s shit.” Harry taps his foot against Niall’s so he’ll stop jiggling his leg, “P’Stylan.”

“It just doesn’t work.” Niall reaches over, claps his hand on Liam’s shoulder, “sorry mate, we tried.”

“You two are idiots.” Liam’s got that look though, the one where his face is about to explode into a grin. 

“Think you’d be nicer to your _clients_ , Liam.” Niall makes a move like he’s about to move, and Harry has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when he stops suddenly as he remembers, palm pressed flat against his guitar. 

“Think I can stay ‘til the break, maybe?” Liam’s smiling now, full stop. “The whole week. We already had the extra room booked, so I don’t have to bunk in with one of you.”

“Cheers,” Niall nods, “good you’re here, actually, because the one stage manager was going on about the setup? Think you could-”

“I thought that Louis already handled that, this venue was such a headache,” Liam’s already standing, shrugging out of his coat, “I’ll be back. And lads?”

“Yeah?” Harry feels like he’s tilted off his axis when Liam pauses at the door.

“We’ll go out tonight, yeah? I can be a proper wingman for you two, it’s been ages since Louis and I had to deal with any rumors, you two probably need a pull.” Liam disappears, and Harry can hear him laughing with Al down the hall, the room silent until Niall finally speaks. Harry can hear the smile in his voice.

“Guess we’re going out tonight.”

**

It’s almost the end of their encore and Niall’s behind his drum kit, showing off while Harry takes a swig of water and the crowd goes wild. Harry can’t tell if it’s because it’s bigger venues this tour, or what, but it’s like every show gets a little louder. Loud like it’s echoing in his bones. He glances over to the side of the stage and Liam’s grin is wide, tossing Harry a thumbs up every time he meets his eyes. 

“Alright then, Harry?” Niall’s voice is loud in his ear, and Harry glances back while Niall does a slow drumroll, waiting for his response.

“More than alright, you could even….” Harry pauses, bouncing his mic on his leg and thumbing the tip until Niall’s eyes widen, Harry laughing to himself before he finishes, “Bet Your Rider on it.”

“Harry,” Niall gets up, adjusting his own mic and reaching for his guitar, “that might be our best segue yet, Germany must be a lucky country.”

The crowd goes insane, nearly drowning out Niall as he starts the song. Harry wanders over to the keyboard, fingers skimming over the keys so he can start the backing track. 

“You’ve been great, a really amazing crowd,” Harry says while Niall finishes the intro, “one of the best of the tour, yeah Niall?”

“Absolutely,” Niall grins, looking back at Harry and rolling his eyes. They’d agreed backstage to do some of Liam’s favorite onstage things since he was there, really make him feel great. “In fact, I think it’s been the loudest of the tour as well.”

“Dunno, you really think?” Harry shades his eyes, squinting out over the crowd, them going crazy while Al stands near the stage with a look on his face that he’s gonna have a field day with them later over it all. Harry makes a mental note to send him some relevant Liam youtube videos later so he’ll understand. 

“I do think, and it’s a pity this is our last song,” Niall shakes his head, pausing in his playing to give the crowd a chance to react, “but hey, we’ll be back soon, yeah Haz?” 

“Definitely,” Harry says after a moment, taken aback for a split second, knows from the look on Niall’s face that he wasn’t thinking before he said it. Not that it matters, the crowd going absolutely mental as Niall finally starts singing, Harry joining in a moment later.

It’s pure adrenaline, Harry never getting enough of how it feels when they really gel together on stage. It comes first in his mind, can never decide when he feels more in tune with Niall, if it’s like this or when they’re writing a song; or if it’s when they’re messing about, just laughing at rubbish. Or, Harry tries not to think too hard about it, Niall winking at him as they finish the song, if it’s when they’re having a shag, Niall’s accent gone thick while he’s urging Harry on. Or if it’s all the same thing. 

When they get backstage, Harry jumps on Niall’s back, burying his face in Niall’s neck and laughing, Niall swatting at his side. 

“Off,” he groans, then, in a louder voice, “we’re really improving Payno, yeah?”

“Got good video of that last one,” Liam’s grin is broad, “Louis’s gonna love it.” Harry slides off of Niall’s back, feeling unsteady. 

“Uh,” Harry glances over at Niall, who’s grimacing. “That was just y’know, some stage banter.”

“That _was_ a loud one,” Al comes up behind Harry, who could kiss him for his timing. “My ears are going to be ringing for days.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Liam laughs, holding up his phone again. “Even if it was banter, lads, I feel great about it.”

“It’s nice to feel great,” Niall mutters, rubbing at the back of his head and poking at Harry’s side, “could do for a pint.”

“The stage manager told me a good place we can go, you two go have a quick shower and we’ll head out, yeah?” Liam’s already looking down at his phone, probably about to text Louis and tell him to start planning their multi-year world tour. 

“Yeah,” Niall nods at Harry, who follows him down the hall, biting his lip because it’s crowded with people. As soon as the door’s closed and locked behind them, Niall turns, knocking Harry back and kissing him hard. 

“Way to go,” Harry says, when Niall pulls away, breathing hard against Harry’s neck. “We’re doomed now.”

“A laugh went too far,” Niall noses at Harry’s jaw, tongue dipping out and making Harry’s hips move on their own, Niall laughing in earnest now. 

“Think we could skip a night out?” Harry runs his hand down Niall’s back, pressing in at the dip where his shirt’s stuck, damp with sweat. “Think I’d prefer a night in, Niall. We’ve only got a week before break.”

“Hmmm?” Niall’s pulls back, raising his eyebrows and pulling off his vest. “And then what? We’ve got a week of Payno, mate, don’t think we can get away with ditching him the first night.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst,” Harry’s eyes track Niall’s movements as he strips off, “c’mon, Nialler, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Can make it worth my while later, Haz, c’mon, you’re killing me.” Niall holds up his hands when Harry surges forward, keeping a distance between them. 

“It feels unfair that you got off before the show and I,” Harry gestures down to his dick, cupping it, “am dying here.”

“Yeah, but Liam’s gonna help you pull, remember?” Niall grins, reaching down and tossing one of their towels in Harry’s direction, “so suck it up.”

“Don’t mention sucking,” Harry groans, “that’s just cruel.”

He can still hear Niall laughing, even after he starts the shower.

**

“She was nice,” Liam’s beyond pissed now, Harry can tell, face flushed and so many drinks in Harry lost count. “Proper nice.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his drink and kicking at Liam under the table, “dunno if I’m in the mood for a pull, though.”

“Nialler, though.” Liam gestures out toward the darker area of the bar, where Niall’s a handful of pints in and in the middle of a group of people all dancing wildly. “He looks up for it.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, keeping his voice slow and even as he watches Niall turn into the girl dancing next to him, the one who’s been orbiting him all night. Not that Harry’s noticed, not that he’s thinking Niall’s gonna be shagging anyone else that night, but. It settles weird in his throat, makes his drink taste sour and it harder and harder to be normal around Liam. 

“Remember that one time, whatsit, Australia? That girl you and Niall both were gonna have a go over?” Liam laughs, and Harry shifts, remembering how it had been a huge laugh at the time, Niall usually the most content to keep his pulls to himself, never like Zayn and Harry. Harry’s shagged more people in the same room as Zayn than there are days in the week. 

“Zayn’s gonna be a Dad again,” Harry says, hearing how his voice comes out. He doesn’t mean to change the subject, but it’s what swims across his mind when he thinks about how much everything’s changed. Liam and Zayn are married, Zayn’s going to have two kids soon, and Louis is finally having a proper go with El. 

And then, there’s Stylan. And Niall. Niall, most of all. It fucks with Harry’s head, makes him gulp his drink a little more, laugh at Liam’s pout.

“He’ll have a proper family and all,” Liam says, and Harry catches Niall’s eye from across the bar, his gaze flashing over the girl’s shoulder. Harry can feel the tension bleeding out from his shoulders, can feel himself relax into the worn leather of the booth. 

“Think he already had one, Li.” Harry walks his fingers over past Liam’s empties, poking at Liam’s hand where it’s twitching on the table.

“No, but.” Liam shakes his head, his eyes gone glassy, “two feels different.”

“Think Zayn agrees with you,” Harry laughs, poking at Liam’s hand again until Liam grabs it, squeezing Harry’s fingers a little too hard. 

“Soph and I-” Liam fishmouths for a moment, and Harry smooths his thumb over the bump of Liam’s knuckles, waiting for him to finish. 

“Yeah, Li?”

“Think we’re ready to have one, ourselves. Been at it for a bit.”

“Spare me no details, Liam.” Harry flips Liam’s hand over, taps the middle of Liam’s palm. “All this baby making.”

“Dunno, Harry, I’ve been thinking it for a while, she’s not been opposed, it’s just,” Liam takes a deep breath, “she and I had a bit of a fight, over it.”

“What about? She sick of your cock already?” Harry pulls his hand back, taking a sip of his drink. Sometimes it’s best to let Liam have his time out with it, to formulate his thoughts.

“No, just,” Liam down the rest of his drink, swallowing heavily, “she thought I brought it up again because of Zayn and Pez.”

“Yeah but,” Harry thinks of how to put it delicately, “did you?”

“A _bit_ yeah, but,” Liam starts laughing, rubbing at his face, “it was Louis, too.”

“Louis made you want to have a baby? Did Sophia know that?” Harry looks over at Niall again, but he’s got his back turned to them, talking at the bar with what looks like a fresh pint in his hand.

“No, just that…” Liam takes a breath, “him and El, finally. And Zayn, and you and Niall are doing so well, I just felt like, maybe I’m ready for my next step.”

“You,” Harry takes a deep breath, bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh at Liam thinking that he and Niall having a laugh constitutes as any type of step forward, “but you wanna do it too, right?”

“Yeah!” Liam says it too loud, knocking over a glass, “I mean, it just like, lit a fire under me, y’know? Proper fire. Like if I want something I gotta go for it. And Soph wants it to, I just had to like, make bloody sense about my like, my motivations?”

“If you had a baby in the next year, it could be mates with Zayn’s new one.” Harry thinks about it, a weird feeling rising in his chest. 

“Right??? Proper mates! Soph and I minded Laser last week, and he had a great time, I think we’re good to go.”

“Yeah,” Harry starts, when Niall’s suddenly there, a loud hurricane of cursing.

“Cut me off, Haz, I don’t wanna make an arse of meself,” Niall collapses in the booth, his hand landing on Harry’s thigh under the table immediately, leaning into Harry’s neck. He’s not that pissed, Harry can tell, but he knows that one pint more and it’ll be hard to pry it out of his hand. 

“Need me to make an arrangement for you,” Liam’s leaning over the table and raising his eyebrows, “for tonight?”

“What’s that, Payno?” Niall’s laughing, his fingers pressing harder into the inseam of Harry’s jeans. It makes Harry clear his throat and lean forward, hunching over the table so Liam won’t be able to see. 

“You know,” Liam starts laughing, his face bright red. “You know, Nialler.”

“Think I’m good, actually,” Niall nods over at the corner where Harry knows Al’s been hanging out, making a motion with his hand, “and I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Gonna rally,” Liam leans on his hand, looking tired, “just not used to going out so much.”

“Liam’s practicing being a responsible father figure,” Harry turns to Niall, eyes tracking the bead of sweat running down his neck. 

“Think you’ve got that down,” Niall pulls out his phone, glancing down at the screen, “Al’s got the car ‘round back.”

“No, like,” Harry slides out carefully after Niall, adjusting himself before they drag Liam out. “He and Sophia, you know….”

“No shit,” Niall’s smile is bright, Liam grinning back at him as he leans on them both. Harry hadn’t realized just how much Liam had drunk until they tried to make him walk, him stumbling between them as Niall threads them through the throng of people. 

“Uncle Niall,” Liam says, when they hit the cool outside air, Al holding open the car, “and Uncle Harry!”

They manage to load Liam into the car pretty easily, him between them in the backseat and singing softly under his breath.

“Lads,” Liam stops suddenly, grabbing at them both, “you should have me on stage for a show this week, yeah?”

“Sure, maybe,” Harry meets Niall’s eyes, biting at his lip so he doesn’t laugh. 

“His room is between yours,” Al says from the front, where he’s sitting with the driver, “so you should be able to get him in alright.”

“Al, how big of a bonus do we have to give you for you to carry him for us?” Niall asks, winking over at Harry.

“Not big enough.”

**

“Still gonna rally,” Liam’s voice is muffled into the pillow when he speaks, Harry struggling to unlace his boots while Niall tries to loosen the duvet underneath his weight. 

“Sure you are, Payno.” Niall huffs out a laugh, throwing up his hands and pushing Harry’s to the side so he can loosen the laces, pulling them off so fast that Harry wonders just how Niall can do it, seem almost pissed in the bar and the car, but now he’s sure where Harry’s gone a bit sluggish, maneuvering Liam so he’s under the duvet finally.

“Laaaaads,” Liam’s rolled himself over, squinting up at them light from the night table, “s’gonna be a great week.”

“It is,” Harry pats at Liam’s shoulder when he reaches over to turn off the lamp, “get some sleep, you’re gonna feel rubbish in the morning.”

“No, gonna feel ace,” Liam laughs, “you two on either side of me, yeah? Like the old days?”

“Exactly like the old days, night Payno,” Niall tugs at Harry’s arm hard, causing Harry to stumble a little when he follows him out of the room, “come back t’mine, yeah?”

“My room is right there,” Harry takes a step toward his room because it’s a couple steps closer, because he can’t remember if Niall’s shit even made it to his room since they slept in Harry’s the night before.

“Your room is closer to Payno’s bed,” Niall shrugs, his eyes dark, “think it’d be better, yeah? If we were on the other side of t’room from him?”

“You got some plans, Horan?” Harry keeps his voice steady, but it cracks on Niall’s surname, giving him away, and Niall’s grin turns wicked.

“Might do,” he’s got his hand just light on Harry’s back, barely touching, like they know to do in hotels to keep it normal. “You up for it?”

“Guess you’ll find out,” Harry watches when it takes Niall a couple of goes to get the key to work proper, doing it one handed with his hand still on Harry’s back, thumb pressing in just under the dip of Harry’s shoulder blade. 

“Help a lad out, Haz,” Niall mutters, the pressure on Harry’s back increasing, and Harry gets it, pushes on the handle as soon as the light turns green and they hear the faint click of the lock releasing. 

Harry stumbles a bit when he walks into the room, nearly tripping over Niall’s case, open on the floor of the entryway, Niall catching his hips to steady him as the door swings shut behind them.

“Fuck,” Harry leans back into Niall’s touch, just to hear Niall’s breath catch, “could at least get your shit further into the room, Niall. Less of a hazard.”

“Sorry, guess I should have anticipated Payno showing up so we’d have to shag here.” Niall laughs, his hand reaching around to ruck up Harry’s shirt, untucking it from his jeans as he leans into Harry’s ear, voice dropping low. “Not a soothsayer, Haz.”

“Dunno,” Harry takes a step forward, pressing his palm against Niall’s wrist so Harry can drag him along, this rubbish shuffle that’s got them both laughing by the time they reach the bed, Harry shrugging off his shirt that Niall’s got unbuttoned and kneeling on the bed, still feeling Niall’s presence looming behind him.

“Dunno what? That I’m a soothsayer? You are well pissed.” Niall’s grinning, the light from the open window glinting off his smile when Harry turns, watching as Niall toes out of his shoes, getting his kit off slow like Harry likes sometimes, when he’s not gagging for it, when they can take their time. 

“Sometimes you know what I want before I do,” Harry shrugs, knows what it’ll do, that it’ll make Niall’s eyes go wide and dark. Niall’s grin gets wider, and he pauses with his thumbs hooked in his pants, pushed down low enough that Harry can see the sharp push of his hipbones, the dark patch of hair. 

“True,” is all Niall says, unmoving, and Harry feels weirdly locked in by his gaze, more than he has before. He’s not sure why that is, if it’s from watching him from afar all night, when he’s used to having him so close, especially on tour. 

“You getting a vision or summat now?” Harry asks, leaning back and sliding up the bed so he’s sprawled out, leaning back on his elbows with his belt still only half undone. 

“Thinking, yeah,” Niall’s face screws up, and he laughs, low. “Got it. You’re a dirty bastard, Styles.” 

Niall pushes his pants the rest of the way down, cock half hard and bobbing low, making Harry swallow hard when Niall knees up the bed carefully, hands coming to rest so he’s palming the laurels. He leans forward, so slow that when his lips touch Harry’s, Harry can hear himself make a loud noise, something he distantly knows he does more easily when he’s had a few. 

“ _Haz_ ,” Niall pulls back, already sounding wrecked, when there’s a quiet thump from the room next door, then silence. 

“Think he’s okay?” Harry whispers it, worried that this hotel has the bloodiest thinnest walls yet. 

“Yeah,” Niall rolls his eyes, sitting back on Harry’s thighs. “Think I left one of his boots on the bed, probably kicked it off. Still, though.” Niall laughs, looking up and meeting Harry’s eyes before surging forward, bracketing Harry’s face with his palms as he kisses him slow, tongue dragging across Harry’s lower lip before licking into his mouth how Harry likes.

Harry goes with it, gasping when Niall bites at his lip before soothing it over with his tongue, is into the feeling of him still half dressed with all of Niall’s skin available to him, Harry reaching down to palm Niall’s arse, kneading it to match the slow rhythm of how Niall’s kissing him. Harry thinks, if he’d had one less drink this would be a much different story, would already have Niall spread open beneath him, probably still by the bloody door. 

Harry makes another noise when Niall finally reaches down, making quick work of Harry’s flies, and pulls away, grinning so wide that Harry’s stomach drops right out while Niall pulls his pants and jeans down in one go, placing a line of kisses up the inside of Harry’s leg, ignoring Harry’s cock entirely. Harry could start a petition, it’s so fucking unfair.

“Niall, you’re a crap soothsayer,” Harry thrusts his hips up while Niall laughs softly, “this is not what I wanted.”

“You’re being too bloody loud, is the problem,” Niall’s eyes rake over Harry’s face, and Harry feels pinned down by more than just Niall’s weight. “Liam’s gonna fucking hear the second I touch ya.”

“I’ll be quiet, and Liam’s a real heavy sleeper,” Harry doesn’t know why he’s bothering to tell such a crap lie, both of the things he just said giant fucking fibs; especially when Niall knows for a fact they’re both not true, not at all.

Niall laughs again, surprising Harry when he leans down, biting down on Harry’s nipple at the same time his hand clamps down on Harry’s mouth, smothering the surprised noise Harry makes.

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry’s voice is muffled against Niall’s mouth, and Niall just grins.

“Don’t make me have to go searching for your scarves, Harry, tie you up this time,” Niall flexes his wrist where it’s pressed to Harry’s chin, like a reflex, and Harry twitches his hips up, thinking about the marks that were there on Niall’s skin for a full week after, how it made him feel when Niall couldn’t roll up his sleeves on stage and no one else knew why.

Harry shakes his head, biting softly at the side of Niall’s hand so Niall knows he agrees. That’s all Niall needs, it seems, his mouth back at the slope of Harry’s chest, tongue flicking out while the hand that’s not pressed to Harry’s mouth slides promisingly over Harry’s cock. 

“Fuck, think all the stuff is in your case,” Niall mutters, hand stilling before smiling at Harry, shaking his head, “I’m crap at this, not thinking enough ahead.”

“Mmmph,” Harry starts, before Niall moves his hand, enough that Harry can speak, “doesn’t matter, we’ll make do.”

“Yeah?” Niall’s hand is moving again, thumb swiping over the head of Harry’s cock, enough pressure to slip the foreskin back and make Harry’s hips shift restlessly against nothing. 

“Yeah,” Niall says again, a faraway look in his eyes that Harry’s used to seeing when they’re writing a song and Niall’s figuring something, “Haz,”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch yourself,” Niall presses his hand back down before Harry can answer, his eyes gone dark and curious.

Harry reaches down, wonders what Niall’s working out, because it’s not something that they do on the regular unless it’s over Skype or summat, usually only when Niall’s fucking Harry and can’t concentrate enough to pull him off at the same time. Not that Harry minds, because the way Niall’s watching him, gaze intent, is more than enough, so he fists his cock slow, like he does when there’s thousands of miles between them.

It’s a good thing Niall’s got his hand over his mouth still, because Harry makes an involuntary noise when Niall gets a hand on himself, can tell Niall’s close already from how he’s twisting his wrist on the upstroke, knuckles gone white in the faint light Harry’s eyes have gotten used to. His breathing’s gone off rhythm and his hand is almost too firm a pressure on Harry’s mouth, but Harry likes it. 

“No,” Niall whispers, his voice quiet and firm, when Harry speeds up to match Niall, “keep it slow.”

Harry nods, fighting against the urge to follow what his cock really wants, breathing hard when Niall stops wanking himself for a second to settle between Harry’s legs fully, maneuvering Harry’s leg so it’s slung over his hip. He leans forward, and Harry feels his eyes cross when Niall’s lips press against his forehead, a weird disconnect from how he’s coming suddenly over Harry’s stomach. Harry can feel how his eyelashes are fluttering with it, tickling along his hairline. Niall’s hand loosens enough then, and Harry keeps his voice soft, fights the urge to chase his own orgasm.

“Keep going? Don’t know what your angle here is,” Harry laughs against Niall’s palm, “could’ve just said, let’s each have a wank.”

“Not done,” Niall mumbles, and then he’s leaning fully over Harry, “with you.” He smiles, bright, before fitting his hand over Harry’s mouth again before he can ask.

Niall drags his fingers through the come on Harry’s stomach and nudges Harry’s own hand aside before moving them down further, pressing against Harry for a second before sliding one finger in.

“Okay?” Niall mouths, and Harry nods, thinks Niall is fucking brilliant, thinks he should win an award for great ideas, thinks he’s one of the greatest minds of his generation, thinks it’s bloody amazing that Liam showed up suddenly, thinks a lot of things before blanking out completely; chooses instead to focus on the brilliant press of Niall’s fingers and keeping as quiet as possible so it never stops.

**

“Where you off to,” Niall mumbles when Harry gets back from the loo; figures if he leaves while his heart’s still racing then he won’t accidentally doze off, Niall usually desperate for a cuddle post shag, or in the mornings when they first wake up.

“My room,” Harry nearly topples over when he pulls on his jeans, reaching out to steady himself on the bed. Niall catches his hand, holding him in place and squinting up at Harry, had already half passed out while Harry was cleaning up. 

“Sick of me already?” Niall’s voice is rough, throat scratchy like it gets after Harry gets a little too eager while he’s blowing him, and Harry nearly crawls back on top of him.

“Liam….” Harry trails off, knows that Niall will catch on quick, that even though Liam’s not quite a morning person, he’s apt to wake up early and get bored, searching one or both of them out. 

“Ah, fuck,” Niall drops his hand, rolling over and rubbing at his face. “Gonna be weird.”

“We sleep apart more often than not, think we can deal with it.” Harry pauses, allowing himself to sit on the bed to put his boots back on even though he knows the odds are high that he might be swayed to stay for a quick cuddle. 

“Not on tour, though,” Niall shifts, curls himself around Harry’s back, gone soft and soppy when he’s knackered. “I’m being a twat, but I’ve gotten used to your dumb fucking face.”

Harry laughs. “You are a charmer, Nialler.” He twists, pushing Niall’s hair off of his forehead and scratching at his scalp, Niall making a satisfied humming sound. “It’s a week, how bad can it really be?”

“It’ll be sick, been ages since we’ve had some fun with just Payno.” Niall closes his fingers around Harry’s wrist, tugging him down. “You’ve got a little time though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s proud of himself for how he’s able to stand up, stick with his convictions, “talk to me tomorrow night.”

“You’re a cunt,” Niall slurs from the bed, laughing when Harry forgets and trips over Niall’s shit on his way out.

**

“So what do you think,” Niall’s got his fingers tapping nervously on the chaise next to Harry, and Harry settles his hand next to Niall’s so he’ll calm down a tick.

“I loved it, obviously,” Liam’s grin is wide, “but you know you two don’t have to write everything new, yeah?”

“We’re not,” Niall elbows Harry’s side, full _can you believe this_ , before he continues, “going to just record our set from the Beacon and put that out.”

“And for the record,” Harry cuts Niall off before he can say any more, “we’ve said that before. To you.”

“Right,” Liam opens his mouth like he’s about to say more, but Harry continues.

“To Louis. To Zayn. To Laser.”

“Laser clapped his hands when we told him we agreed to do a proper album, do you want to upset him?” Niall hands his guitar to Harry, leaning forward, and Harry curls his fingers around it to carefully play the intro to the song they just played for Liam, Harry can’t remember the name.

“Laser clapped every day for a week when he figured it out. Perrie told me he even clapped at a shit Teddy did,” Liam says, his voice level, and Harry thinks that maybe he’s been spending entirely too much time with Louis, “but sure, lads, it was over your album.”

“I’m sorry, is Louis somewhere here?” Niall looks around exaggeratedly, and Harry laughs. 

“Listen.” Liam’s grinning now, and Harry knows for a fact he’s mentally writing his text to Louis ( _was a proper dick today, Tommo_ ) “I’m just saying that because you two are...so….”

“So what? Shit at writing songs?” Niall snorts, jostling Harry until he plays the lick again.

“No, for fuck’s sake,” Liam shakes his head, “you know that’s not true. I just mean, you two are such annoying twats over every little thing, I guess Louis and I figured you wouldn’t really want to spend your whole tour writing.”

“We didn’t mean that bit,” Harry feels that weird level he gets of equally annoyed and affectionate toward Liam, “we just didn’t want to _record_ on tour.”

“We’d be writing anyway, Payno, to be honest,” Niall glances over at Harry, and Harry grins back.

“We like writing together, like,” Harry tries to think of how to explain it, doesn’t think he’s managed to figure it out himself yet, “it’s like we’ve put in all this time, yeah, and now is when everything...clicked. We gel, or something.”

“Yeah, it’s,” Niall clears his throat, “like you and Louis, yeah?”

“There is something about your songs,” Liam smiles, wide, and Harry exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding, “just didn’t want you to think we were pushing harder than we were, is all.”

“Cheers,” Harry hands Niall back his guitar, Niall winking over at him. 

“Play it again,” Liam urges, “then we can get some dinner. I gotta say, I do like having so much time between shows. Especially after last night. Good recovery.”

“Yeah,” Niall laughs, starting to play, “you calling me to bring you a cuppa at bloody eight in the morning really was lovely, Liam.”

**

It’s been four and a half days since he’s been able to get off with Niall, and Harry is sure that this is what insanity feels like. Just absolute, utter rubbish. 

The second night of his stay, Liam was still feeling a touch hungover and asked if they wanted to just watch telly in his room. Laid out right between them on the bed, for the whole fucking night. It was nice, just to hang out, Harry feeling comfortable and warm and felt himself smiling over at Niall, probably at some point not too long before they all fell asleep. 

They moved to the next city the next day, a travel day that cut them a little too close to the show. There was a large crowd of fans outside the hotel there when they got back, people already gotten wind of Liam’s presence with them even though Niall and Harry hadn’t given into his request to come on stage yet. They only meant to stay out for a little bit, to sign a few things, but in the end Liam ended up organizing everyone into a queue that took ages to get through. Niall’d looked so knackered at the end of it, eyes drooping low, that Harry had delivered him straight to his door before having a quick drink with Liam downstairs, too tired himself to sneak into Niall’s room like he meant to after.

The next night was, well. The fucking worst. Harry was on his way to Niall’s room, a clear mission in mind, when Liam was suddenly there, in the hallway, a million questions. Wanted to go out again. Harry really needs to work on saying no. (Said Niall, while he laughed.)

And now, they’re in Berlin and Harry’s not going to let it happen again.

“Harry,” Zayn’s saying, sounding confused on the phone, “you’re gonna have to repeat that.”

“Just ring Louis up and tell him,” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, knows he only has another minute or so before the others will be backstage, “that you’ve been thinking and you want to go solo.”

“I don’t want to go solo,” Zayn says slowly, after a moment of silence.

“Not the point, Zayn.”

“Care to bloody clue me in, then?” Zayn sighs, and Harry listens hard for a minute, about to feel like a shit if Laser’s off crying while he’s tying Zayn up. Nothing.

“If you did that, Louis would call Liam, and Liam would fly home. Immediately.” It’s a pretty brilliant plan if Harry thinks so, thinks it to be pretty foolproof. 

“You,” Zayn starts laughing, and Harry fights the urge not to smile, “getting sick of Liam, are you?”

“He’s just,” Harry wonders how he could put it without actually having to tell Zayn anything, “so, you know, around.”

“Liam’s a present person,” is Zayn’s bullshit response before he starts laughing again.

“See if I ever do anything for you, Zayn.” 

“Got the upper hand, Haz,” Zayn’s voice is slow, “got Laser. And another one soon.”

“You don’t have to go _through_ with it,” Harry tries, one last time. 

“Yeah, and then deal with Louis after that?” Zayn snorts. “Would prefer not to.”

“Fair, but,” Harry can hear Liam’s voice down the hall fast approaching, loud, followed by Niall’s laugh, “think about it.”

“Think about what?” 

“ _Zayn_ ,” Harry starts before he realizes Zayn’s rung off already, tossing his phone on the table and trying to look casual when Liam strides through the door.

**

“Harry!” Liam calls out, Harry stopping in his tracks and taking a deep breath before he turns around. It’s half eleven and they’ve been back from the bar for long enough that Harry thought -- well, he’d hoped that ten minutes was enough, anyway.

“Liam, heyyyy.” Harry turns carefully, glad that he’d made the executive decision after the other night to split their supply of lube and condoms between their cases, because his pants are tight enough he’s pretty sure Liam would see what he had in his pocket. 

“You still up, too?” Liam laughs, nodding down to Niall’s doorway, which is so close Harry can taste it. Taste Niall, the promising way he’d kissed Harry in the loo at the bar after Harry’d cornered him there. 

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “still up. Thought you were, ah, going to have a Skype with Soph.”

“She was too tired,” Liam frowns, “I forgot how hard it can be on tour, being separate with a time diff, yeah? Some shit.”

“It is, I mean-” Harry stops himself, feels a little on edge when he realizes what he was about to say, how rubbish it is when he and Niall are apart, “I remember how hard it was for you,” he finishes, feeling like a real idiot.

“But Soph understands, and it’s only a couple more days.”

“Three.” Harry says, leaning back so his head knocks against the wall. “Three days.”

“Anxious for break?” Liam’s eyes crinkle up, “you’re back to LA, yeah?”

“Yeah, finishing up with John,” Harry shuffles his feet, runs his hands through his hair. 

“So great, mate, you both, are just...it’s been so ace, seeing you two in action, like it’s meant to be just as much as us all before,” Liam claps his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, “I’m so proud I could burst, you know?”

“Thanks, Liam.” Harry straightens up, fighting the grin that feels like it’s going to overtake his whole face, nodding his head towards Niall’s door. “Were you on your way to see himself?”

Liam laughs at Harry’s terrible Irish accent, “I was, yeah.”

“C’mon then,” Harry slings his arm around Liam’s shoulder, swiping the key before he realizes, “uh, Niall gave me this in case I needed--”

But Liam’s already barrelling in, not paying attention. Harry prays that Niall is still dressed, and it’s really fucking unfair that he can hear the shower as he steps inside, Niall singing their arrangement of “Girl Almighty”. 

“I’ll just --” Harry calls out to Liam before he ducks his head into the bathroom, steam surrounding him as he tries his best not to look directly at Niall when he shouts, “Niall, good news, I ran into Liam in the hall, we’re both here for a bit of a hang.”

The singing stops abruptly, and Niall’s head appears, hair dripping on his face. “You are shitting me.”

“Listen,” Harry lowers his voice to a whisper, glad that he can already hear that Liam’s switched on the telly, “Sophia is falling asleep and they are dealing with time difference and Liam is _proud of us_ and thinks Stylan is meant to be, so this is not my fault.”

“Did he,” the corner of Niall’s mouth is twitching up like he’s fighting a grin, “say all that, Harold?”

“That is a really accurate summary, so just finish up and we’ll all watch a movie. And then we’ll never shag again and my cock will shrivel up and die.”

“Yeah, well,” Niall reaches down, and Harry can tell that it’s not exactly a loose grip he’s got on himself, “we’re all suffering here, Styles, so at least we’re dying together.”

“Nothing together is happening,” Harry mutters, turning away when Niall starts laughing. Liam’s already into whatever movie he’s found, sprawled out on the center of the bed, which is good since -- 

“Cheers, Harry,” Liam says, looking up only just after Harry kicks the lube so it’s hidden under the open lid of Niall’s case.

“Yeah,” Harry thinks he does a pretty passable job keeping the pout out of his voice as he flops down next to Liam, “cheers.”

&&&

“Five minutes,” Niall promises, laughing at the long, long sigh that comes from Harry on the other end. “Don’t start, I think you can make it five extra minutes after five days.”

“ _Five days_ ,” Harry groans, and Niall knows he’s probably already getting started without him. Wanker. 

“Good, glad we can both count.” Niall laughs, grabbing a pair of clean pants. “You’re just holding me up more here, Haz.”

“FIVE MINUTES,” Harry yells, ringing off before Niall can say anything else. 

“Fuck,” Niall tosses his phone on the bed, hopping around as he gets dressed, knows it’s just a formality since he’s pretty sure he’ll have it all back off the second he crosses the threshold of Haz’s room. It’s been sick, having Liam around, but it’s really made Niall realize just how much free reign he and Haz have had, barely having to hide anything when it’s a bunch of people on the crew who aren’t paying attention and Al, who doesn’t give a shit. 

Five days. Niall’s pretty sure he’ll come the second Harry even breathes in the vicinity of his cock. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Niall rolls his eyes. He wishes he had thought to bet himself what the odds were that Harry would just show up. 

“Haz, it hasn’t been five minutes,” Niall says, opening the door -- 

“Oh, you gonna go find Harry?” Liam asks, grinning as he ducks past Niall to walk into the room. Niall spins, flips through every excuse he could possibly use to get to spend the night, just one night, with Haz. 

“Yeah, I, uh, we were going to write tonight?” Niall says, after a second. He figures that might do the trick. “We can play it for you tomorrow, maybe Al will be up for a night out? That’s probably Haz now.” Niall’s phone goes off on his bed, and Liam nods.

“Oh yeah? More for the album?” Liam leans down, reaching for Niall’s phone, “It is Haz, he --” Niall’s phone goes off again, another text coming through, and it’s like everything happens in slow motion, Niall taking a step forward and finally able to see the pic Harry sent, small but big enough that he knows what it is, knows -- 

“We are getting impatient Niall,” Liam reads, slowly, before looking up, not blinking when he says, “um. Well.”

“Liam,” Niall says, his voice coming out strangled.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Harry’s dick,” Liam speaking real slow, like he does when he’s figuring something, “I was hoping it’d be never again, but.”

“Liam,” Niall repeats, unsure how he should even begin to --

“Apparently you...don’t feel the same?” 

“Liam, it’s not --” Niall starts, his phone going off again to remind him of a text he hasn’t seen yet. Cheers. Liam looks down automatically, eyes shifting up to Niall immediately after.

“Oh, God.” Liam says, laughing weakly once before holding out Niall’s phone. “Nialler?”

“I think I’m…” Niall takes his phone, “gonna….call Harry….to come here and….talk about this.”

“Sure,” Liam shrugs, still looking shell shocked. Niall can’t make himself look past that, swiping at his phone and seeing that, yeah, it’s clearly just a pic of Harry’s cock. 

“Heyyyyy,” Harry answers, his voice low, and Niall could kill him for how he’s still into it, considering. 

“No _hey_ Harry, you gotta put it away and get here, immediately.” Niall keeps his voice low, grateful that this hotel has a narrow hall leading to the door of his room. 

“But I already--” Harry starts, and Niall cuts him off.

“Put it away, okay? And _please come here_.” Niall feels hysterical, and very aware of how Liam is just...waiting. 

“Wait, is it --” Harry sounds less fucked out now, a thread of concern in his voice, “are you okay, Niall? What happened?”

“Listen,” Niall drops his voice, curving his hand around his phone to try and muffle it further, “Liam is here, okay? He saw some stuff? On my fucking phone.”

“Like my… _how_?” There are some muffled sounds, then Harry’s back on the line. “I’m on my way, but.”

“But what?” Niall feels real weird, ringing off and opening the door to see Harry come down the hallway. “Jesus Christ, Harry, how do you already look like we fucked?” 

“What?” Harry looks down at himself, rolling his eyes when Niall pulls at the open edge of his shirt. “I was sort of in a hurry, Niall.”

“I couldn’t tell, since you couldn’t wait _five fucking minutes_ without you sending me a pic of your cock.”

“I don’t recall you complaining before,” Harry crosses his arms.

“Not the point, Harry. Liam’s been everywhere, and we’ve been trying to be bloody careful!”

“Sort of the point, Niall,” Harry shakes his head, hair falling on his eyes in this really terrible fucking distracting way, “and anyway, you are the one who failed to protect my privacy with your phone settings, Niall.”

“I--” Niall starts, before Liam clears his throat from behind them. 

“So lads, funny story,” he says, “I can hear you, so maybe others can, too? Wanna come inside?” Liam’s got his arms crossed, and even though there’s a slight smile playing at his lips he’s put on his serious manager voice, the one that makes them sit up a bit, pay attention.

Like now, when they close the door fully, following Liam down the hall, the two of them sitting on the edge of Niall’s bed, Liam sitting opposite them on the desk chair like he’s their fucking headmaster. 

“So,” Liam starts, holding up his hand when Harry opens his mouth to interrupt. Niall bites his lip so he doesn’t reach for Harry’s hand, feeling unsure. 

“So,” Liam says again, “how, uh, long?”

“I haven’t measured, but,” Harry starts, grinning over at Niall. His face falls when Niall shoots him what he hopes is a death stare worthy of Louis.

“Since middle of last tour,” Niall clears his throat, finally reaching for Harry’s hand, the way Liam’s eyes track his movements not lost to him, “‘bout seven months or so?”

“Jesus,” Harry whispers, squeezing at Niall’s hand. “Seven.”

“Since,” Liam’s mouth hangs open for a second, “last tour?? Jesus. Okay. This is fine! It’s fine!”

“Of course it is,” Harry sounds mildly offended, and Niall squeezes his hand again.

“Liam,” Niall says, “it’s not…”

“No like,” Liam rubs his hand over his face, “good for you? Yeah? Good? Who knows?”

“No one,” Niall says, at the same time Harry says, “Al.”

“Well, no one _other than_ Al?” Niall amends himself, had gotten so used to Al knowing that it doesn’t feel like a big deal anymore. 

“Hold on. You two managed to keep this a secret? That’s….” Liam pauses, laughing to himself before finishing,”...impressive.”

“Hey,” Harry says, dropping Niall’s hand. “We can keep plenty of secrets.”

“We’re not as shit as you think, Payno, we know plenty about you we’ve never told.” Niall adds, just to let Liam know that this is an even playing field.

“I just,” Liam shakes his head, slipping into manager mode again, sitting up straight, “do you _want_ people to know? Should I be like….”

“Calm down, no one has to sign any NDAs, if that’s what you’re asking.” Niall holds his breath. “And--”

“It’d be great if you didn’t tell Louis.” Harry adds, and Niall’s glad Harry thought of it, not feeling like dealing with it during their UK leg. In the grand scheme of things, between the two of them Liam’s the best one to accidentally see Harry’s cock on his phone.

“I can’t tell --” Liam takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry sounds as surprised as Niall feels, because normally Liam wouldn’t give up so easy.

“Well,” Liam shrugs, “he didn’t tell me for ages that he was engaged, so.”

“You two _are_ spending entirely too much time together,” Niall laughs, feeling an odd sense like everything is going to be okay. For now, at least.

“Plus I’m allowed to tell Soph.”

“No you are not.”

“It’s covered under like, marriage privacy rules, she won’t tell a soul.”

“Just like she wasn’t going to tell a soul that you named your dick Sam, right?” Harry points out, an edge to his voice Niall wishes he could smooth over. 

“That was ages ago, and she was drunk, and you were all supposed to never bring it up again!”

“You’ll note that I did _not_ name my knob,” Harry laughs, “so.”

“This feels unfair,” Liam shakes his head.

“Listen, Liam,” Niall scoots over closer to Harry on the bed, exhaling when Harry loops his arm around Niall’s waist, “we’re just...can you keep it to yourself for now? It’s just something your clients disclosed to you, that’s all. It’s basically nothing different.”

“Nothing,” echoes Harry, his fingers digging hard into Niall’s side. 

Liam eyes them both, hesitating before nodding. 

“Seriously though,” Liam laughs, “seven months?”

**

“Tonight took a turn,” Harry’s voice is low, Niall barely able to hear him over the telly, some crap show on that Niall can’t be arsed to pay attention to. Liam’s snoring softly between them like they’d all ended up a few nights ago; it’s familiar enough that Niall can almost forget that everything is different.

“I’m not shagging you with Liam in the bed,” Niall laughs softly, careful not to wake Liam. He’s proper glad that they all know when someone’s actually sleeping after all these years, knows that Liam’s proper passed out.

“Please,” Harry rolls his eyes, grinning wide, “suck me off quick in the loo?”

“Oddly enough, I’m not much up for it right now,” Niall’s surprised to say, when he was gagging for it earlier. If anything, he’s annoyed that Liam’s between them, thinks about how nice it would be the burrow alongside Harry, get a proper rest like he hasn’t in days. The lack of shagging’s been shit, but. Niall hadn’t realized just how used he’d gotten to sleeping next to Harry on tour, having him there all night, snoring loud and always too hot, enough to set Niall off in a sweat in his sleep. 

“Same. No offense,” Harry tips his head back, eyes glinting in the soft light coming from the telly screen, “just not tonight.”

“Least we’ll be able to,” Niall shrugs, trying to keep his movements small, “share a room, these last two nights.”

Harry reaches over, his arm resting against the headboard as he threads his fingers through Niall’s hair, his movements slow and very un-Harry like. It makes Niall’s head roll back immediately until Harry’s cradling it in his palm, makes him feel overly fucking warm.

“D’ya think he’ll tell anyone?” Harry asks, after a few minutes of rolling his fingertips against Niall’s scalp, Niall feeling like he’s gone boneless with it. Harry’s voice is quiet, and when Niall looks over he’s still got his eyes trained on the screen. 

“Dunno, he seems proper mad at Louis.” Niall knows he’s talking absolute shit, but, “Liam’s good at secrets, think he knows that we-”

“Yeah.” Harry pulls his hand back, Niall about to protest when he tilts his head so he can meet Niall’s eyes, pressing his fingers to his mouth before reaching over and dragging them across Niall’s lips. It’s dumb as fuck, something Niall knows he’ll take the piss out of later; but he’s tired and hasn’t been alone with Harry for fucking days on end. So he just smiles, bites at Harry’s fingertips once until Harry laughs, low in the back of his throat.

“Get some sleep, Nialler,” Harry drops his hand, thumbing once at the collar of Niall’s vest before settling back, Niall rolling into Liam’s heat just for _something_ , “it’s gonna be all go tomorrow.”

**

Niall stares at his case, wondering just when he managed to accumulate half of Harry’s fucking wardrobe. This time, when he tries to go for a zip, leveraging his weight on the lid, it’s a stupid bloody witch hat or some shit that’s sticking out the side. It’s gonna be absolute hell, Niall thinks, trying to separate all their shit at the end of this tour. Yanking the hat out, Niall’s finally able to get the zip to close entirely, taking a second look. It’s the one that Niall hates and Harry loves, refused to take it off that one day in Majorca, the day they’d shagged on the balcony. Said it shaded his face just right, and didn’t he look great, Niall? He didn’t, he had looked dumb as fuck, but Niall sets it carefully on top of his things anyway for Al to grab later. 

They’re about to hit the road to get to their last city in Germany, only got one show left before the week break. Before Ireland, before the UK leg. This time tomorrow, Niall will be on his way to his Da’s place, Harry halfway to LA. Liam to Sophia. 

There’s a knock at his door, and Niall gets halfway there before Liam’s already yelling on the other side.

“Niall!” Liam’s voice is only slightly muffled, “it is me! Liam! CAN I COME IN?”

Harry’s laughter is all Niall hears when he swings open the door, already rolling his eyes at Niall and shoving at Liam’s shoulder while he grins.

“Arse,” Harry laughs, “I’m fucking here _with you_.”

“You have your phone, Harold, so I can’t be entirely too careful.”

“Go ahead then, get it all out, Payno.” Niall reaches out and twists at Liam’s nipple through his shirt, Liam twisting away and laughing. He’s had a real go of it in the day or two he’s known, Niall ready to start snogging Harry right in front of him, make him shut up for real. Although that might not be the best idea, considering they’d been out so late the night before that he and Harry had had just enough energy for a quick snog and wank in the shower before they passed out, Harry curled around Niall so tight that Niall’d woken up with red welts on the skin of his hip from Harry’s rings that were there for ages, could still feel the groove of them under the waist of his pants all fucking morning. 

“I’ll never get it all out,” Liam laughs, “it’s too easy.”

“Yeah, well,” Niall hauls them both inside, “you better get used to it anyway.”

“Niall, come on,” Liam shakes his head, slinging his arm around Niall’s neck to pull him close, “I’d never compromise you two, you know that. Plus, the label-”

“What comes first,” Niall puts on his best Louis, “us, or the label?”

“You, you tosser,” Liam holds Niall tighter for a moment before releasing Niall, shoving at him hard enough that Niall has to take a step back, “don’t take the piss.”

“Just giving you a bit of practice,” Niall grins.

“Heyyyyy,” comes Harry’s voice from the bedroom, “you found my lucky hat! I’m wearing it tonight!!!”

“What hat?” A look of horror crosses Liam’s face, Niall laughing so hard his gut hurts as Liam bolts into the other room, “Harry, what hat?”

**

“Think Louis misses you,” Harry’s sprawled out on the sofa in their dressing room, his boot digging into Niall’s leg as he scrolls through his phone. 

“Why do you say that?” Liam looks over at them both from the window where he’s watching the crowd filter in, half hidden by the blinds. Niall notices how Liam’s eyes follow the movements of his hand when it rests on top of Harry’s foot. It makes him slide his fingers up higher, just enough that he’s got them wrapped around Harry’s ankle.

Liam clears his throat and looks away.

“Just,” Harry opens something, “he’s been sending more stroppy emails. Think you were supposed to convince us of something.”

“Which is shit, really,” Niall smiles sweetly when Liam turns again, “since we’ve been your best clients.”

“The absolute best,” Harry echoes, nodding. “We added some dates.”

“Eight dates,” Niall adds, “and we had an opening act for the first show.”

“It’s really a shame,” Harry shakes his head, “that Spicy Coffin broke up straight afterward.”

“They had no staying power.”

“Right, Niall, and we were a good jumping off point or them, really --”

“Such nice lads.”

“The nicest. But you know, youths today.”

“Plus,” Niall stretches, really enjoying how Liam’s got his pout fixed on them both, “we _also_ agreed on doing an album.”

“A proper one,” Harry chimes in.

“We’ve been working so hard,” Niall scoots over a little closer to Harry, close enough that when Harry swings his legs down to sit up their hips touch, “on writing and rewriting.”

“For you, really. And Louis.”

“Thank you, Harry.” 

“You are so welcome, Niall.”

“Alright!” Liam holds up his hands, “what did Louis say? Because I-”

“Were supposed to be working on us to do an interview, apparently. A full UK press tour.”

“Shit,” Niall leans over to read at Harry’s phone, hadn’t been sure what Harry’d been reading exactly, “seriously?”

“I told him I’d bring it up while I was here,” Liam rubs his hands over his face, “but then we were having such a sick time, and then I’ve been dealing with you two getting off together which, I don’t know if you know this, I’ve handled it really proper amazing and all.”

“You have,” Harry’s voice is gentle now, and Niall could elbow the shit out of him because he knows Harry’s giving in, “and Niall and I appreciate it. But I’d sooner shave my head than do a UK press tour, Liam.”

Or, maybe not. 

“But,” Harry glances over at Niall, squeezing at this knee, “Niall and I, we think you should come on stage for a bit tonight, maybe do a song or two?”

“I--” whatever smart remark Niall was about to say dies in his throat entirely when he sees Liam’s face, grin a mile fucking wide.

**

“As some of you are aware,” Harry’s pacing back and forth as he pauses in his speech in front of where Niall’s sat on stage, retuning his guitar. It was fine, but the building anticipation in Niall’s gut sends him looking for something to do so he won’t fly apart on stage, reach for Harry, say something he shouldn’t. 

Niall’s not sure if it’s because they know they’re bringing Liam out at any moment for the encore, his smile bright whenever Niall glances off the side of the stage the whole night, or if it’s the upcoming break, seeing his family, seeing his friends. Being apart from Haz. Which is fucking stupid, only a week apart. They’ve gone ages longer. Niall’s known about this for weeks, but he still feels the same way as he did when Harry’d surprised him with the last LA trip, a weird sinking feeling he’d hated then and hates now. 

“Go on,” Niall encourages Harry when he realizes that the crowd’s going fucking mad and Harry’s gone off on one of his tangents, “think you’re a bit off track there, Harry.”

“Am I?” Harry laughs, playing with his hair like he knows it’ll set off the crowd _and_ Niall. Wanker. “Anyway, as everyone knows, we’ve had a guest this week.”

“Don’t know if we could call him a guest,” Niall cuts his eyes over to where Liam’s bouncing on the balls of his feet now, already holding a mic in his hand, the one Harry’d found the red tape for somewhere backstage to wrap around the bottom. 

“Guest doesn’t feel right, does it?” Harry stops for a second, lets the crowd work itself up into a right frenzy. It’s what Harry’s best at, knows how to get even a small group of people smiling and losing their shit in anticipation for whatever he’s gonna do next. “More like…”

“Like what?” Niall finishes tuning, glancing over again and suppressing his grin when it looks like Liam’s about to lose it entirely, pogoing like Niall hasn’t seen him do since they were still teenagers. 

“A… _pain_ in the arse.” Harry laughs at his own stupid fucking pun, and the crowd reaches a sound level so loud Niall could almost close his eyes and imagine they’re back in a sold out stadium instead of this venue with only a few thousand people. 

“I think I was just insulted,” Liam’s already striding out on stage, like he just couldn’t help it or wait any longer for Harry’s shit introduction. “But I’ll let it slide.”

“Yeah, you will,” Harry slings his arm around Liam’s neck, kissing the side of his face while Liam laughs and tries to spin out of Harry’s grip. “Take it away, Niall.”

Niall shoots them both a thumbs up before he starts in on the quick acoustic arrangement of “Illusion” they’d worked out backstage, Liam’s face lighting up when they’d asked him what old song he wanted to cover. Had even somehow convinced Al to record it for him to send to Sophia later, despite both Niall and Harry’s protests that there’d be a million videos of it by morning anyway. 

When Liam starts singing, Niall keeps playing and glances down, catching how Al’s holding Liam’s phone carefully. Harry’s already sitting on the edge of the stage right in front of where Al is, legs moving like he’s kicking his feet almost in time with the music. He looks back, catching Niall staring, and waggles his eyebrows before grinning so hard Niall knows his face has to be hurting with it. 

Niall’s not sure how he manages to keep playing correctly, already steeling himself for the bridge, suddenly unsure how he’s gonna get through any reference to someone tying him up. 

**

“Was such a rush, lads,” Liam shakes his head, palming each of their knees as he sits between them in the backseat, “forgot how great it is.”

“Nothing’s stopping you from going back,” Niall rests his hand on top of Liam’s for a moment, catching Harry’s eye.

“It’s true,” Harry agrees.

“Nah,” Liam sighs, moving and running his hands over his chest, stretching so that Niall feels himself bump up against the door of the car. “I quite like what I’ve got, dunno if I’d want to do it regularly anymore.”

“You’re too good a businessman,” Niall grips at Liam’s shoulder. “Plus Louis would kill you.”

“You’d be a body in the Thames,” Harry’s voice has gone all dramatic, making both Niall and Liam laugh, “think of the scandal.”

“All I said was tonight was great, and now you’ve got me murdered at the hands of Tommo?” Liam sounds giddy, almost. “Think you two need a proper night sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Harry’s still got that voice on, “also a body in the Thames.”

“Right, like I said,” Liam leans forward, “Al?”

“Yes, Liam?” Al turns down the music he had on low, and when Niall looks out the window he realizes that they’re already close to the hotel.

“Think we’re gonna stay in tonight, better for the airport tomorrow?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

“Liam,” Harry says, at the same time Niall nudges Liam, “Payno.”

“What?” Liam shrugs, “we’ve been all go this week, were out for ages last night. I’m gonna crash soon from this high, think it’ll be better for my meeting tomorrow afternoon anyway if I’m not a mess.”

“Sounds good,” Harry says, lightly, and when Niall looks over he won’t meet Niall’s eyes. 

“Yeah, Payno, it has been a long week.” Niall focuses on Liam’s face. 

“Think I somehow managed to end up on a different floor than you two, as well,” Liam sighs, “this hotel was a bloody mess of disorganization.”

“Huh,” Niall hopes Liam will stop talking, not ruin the subtle flow he’s got going.

Harry snorts, “Interesting.”

“We’ll meet for breakfast in the morning though, yeah?” 

“Sure Liam,” Niall turns to the window so neither of them will see how hard he’s grinning, “we’ll be there.”

**

“Know it was shit at first,” Harry’s pulling at Niall’s vest, making a frustrated noise until Niall rolls his eyes, pulling back to yank it over his head, “but it’s good Liam was here.”

“Mhmm,” whatever Niall was about to say is muffled by Harry’s mouth when he surges forward to snog him, slow and in stark contrast to how desperately he’s pulling at Niall’s flies. 

“Yeah?” Harry pulls back, grinning, “use your words, Niall.”

“That what you want me to do right now?” Niall groans when Harry finally gets his hand round Niall’s cock, head knocking against the wall. “Fuck, Haz, can we do this on the bed?”

“Hmm?” Harry looks up, a look of confusion on his face like he’s shocked that they’re wedged up near the door, like he didn’t press Niall up against the wall there the second they’d walked in. “Oh.”

“Yeah, Haz,” Niall arches up into Harry’s touch, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulling a bit so Harry’s head tilts back, eyes looking dark when they meet Niall’s. “ _Oh._ ”

“I wanna,” Harry pulls back, Niall groaning a bit when his hand leaves his cock, “hold on, I’m just wearing too many clothes.”

Niall laughs, watching Harry hop around a bit as he gets his kit off, grabbing at Harry’s hair again when Harry reaches up to pull at Niall’s jeans, getting them and Niall’s pants off in one go. He trails a promising line of kisses up Niall’s knee, stubble scraping against the scar there, before standing up, setting Niall off groaning again. 

“You’re the fucking worst,” Niall huffs, turning his face so Harry misses his mouth when he leans in for a snog. “What were you saying you wanna…”

“Wanna do a lot of things,” Harry breathes out, lips grazing the shell of Niall’s ear. It makes Niall’s hips rock up against nothing, Harry keeping a real bloody frustrating distance between them. He’s barely touched him for more than a couple of minutes, but Niall’s so hard it almost hurts, can feel himself leaking already, feels like he’s easy for it.

“Is fucking me on that list?” Niall asks, hoping Harry picks up on the desperate thread in his voice, past caring or being embarrassed. He knows shit like that really gets Harry going, anyway, that he loves when he can make Niall’s voice go rough with need.

Harry doesn’t answer for a moment, his breathing gone ragged against Niall’s neck. Niall sets his hands at Harry’s hips, holding for a second before he moves them down so he’s cupping Harry’s arse. He pulls Harry forward at the same time he rocks his hips up, Harry hissing when their cocks slide together promisingly.

“Yeah?” Niall asks again. “Harry.”

“Packed up,” Harry gets out, finally, manhandling Niall suddenly so they’re turning and moving in the opposite direction of the bed, “but left my case in the loo.”

“What a great fucking idea,” Niall gasps when Harry pushes him against the cool marble of the counter, snogging him slow enough that Niall can still pay attention, can hear how Harry’s rummaging around his bag. 

“Got a lot of great fucking ideas, Nialler,” Harry pulls back, grinning, kissing Niall quick before spinning him. 

“ _Fuck, Haz_.” Niall catches the flush on his face in the mirror, the red blooming across his chest, before Harry’s fitting his hands over his own, positioning Niall so he’s got his weight braced on the counter, palms flat. 

“Wanted to do this for forever,” Harry mumbles, fingers slick against Niall’s arse already, Niall exhaling shakily when he eases one finger in. “I get to see your face all the time, you’ve been missing out.”

“I look a right mess,” Niall rocks back, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror when Harry licks between his shoulders, adding a second finger. He curves them before Niall can say anything else, Niall unable to hold back the string of curses that erupt from his mouth. 

“My mess,” Harry sounds amazing like this, voice rough and so slow Niall has to calm his own thoughts to follow, “I made it, it’s mine.”

“Sure,” Niall laughs, it ending on a gasp when Harry twists his fingers in that way that fucking undoes him every time. “Fuck, Haz, do that again.”

“Don’t move,” Harry pulls his fingers out entirely, and Niall looks up then, can hear the rip of the package as Harry rolls on the condom. It’s mad, how it looks when Harry’s curving himself over Niall’s back and thrusting in, just wider enough than Niall so that when Niall looks he can see the edge of Harry’s laurels on either side of his hips. Niall’s flushed skin still a few shades paler than Harry’s. 

“Jesus,” Niall grits out, when Harry starts to fuck into him in earnest, has to fight to hold his arms up and not lean down. Harry’s stubble scrapes against his shoulder, and when Niall looks up Harry’s staring at him, their eyes meeting in the mirror. It usually takes more than this, the angle just enough off, but Niall’s sure he could come untouched, follows Harry’s gaze when he glances down at Niall’s cock in the mirror, red and leaking, the unrelenting press of Harry’s cock making it twitch.

Harry reaches, sliding his arm around Niall’s waist to anchor them down, his other hand a sure grip on Niall’s cock. It’s a wonder that Niall manages to keep them up, locking his arms as he fucks back against Harry and comes over Harry’s thumb when he pushes it against his slit. 

“Fucking bloody _hell_.” Niall falls down on his elbows, the angle turning sharp and sensitive while Harry twitches inside of him. 

“Worth the wait,” Harry mumbles, lips pushed up against Niall’s nape, and Niall would laugh if he could breathe properly. He’ll give it a minute, then.

**

“Was thinking,” Harry says, just when Niall was about to slip under, legs still feeling a little like jelly, even after a shower. 

“Tell me more, Haz, because I wasn’t about to sleep or anything.”

“Haha, Niall,” Harry rolls so he’s turned more into Niall, glancing back over his shoulder as Niall spoons his back, “but like. Could come to LA with me.”

“What, now?” Niall still feels dumb with sleep, from the great shag that’s still echoing in his bones. 

“No, not now,” Harry laughs, pulling so Niall’s arm is tighter around his waist. “Tomorrow.”

“I’m going to Ireland.”

“I know you are, but I was just.” Harry’s quiet for a second, Niall giving him the time to figure out what he’s saying, “I meant to mention it earlier, think it’d be sick. You haven’t been to LA since before tour started.”

“I know.” Niall sighs, budging up closer so he can hook his chin over Harry’s shoulder. “But I’ll be back, probably after? We haven’t finalized the recording schedule. Or done it much at all, really.”

Harry traces his fingers over Niall’s hand, making shivers creep up the back of Niall’s neck. “Right.”

“I--” Niall stops, because there’s something going on in Harry’s voice that he can’t quite place, and it makes him feel uneasy. “It’s a week, just.”

“Seven days.”

“Yeah, that’s what a week is, good job Haz.” Niall presses a kiss to Harry’s neck, just so he knows Niall’s taking the piss, feels like he wants to reassure him over...something, Niall’s not sure what.

“I get it,” is all that Harry says. 

“Listen,” Niall doesn’t know why his voice comes out so quiet, chalks it up to how knackered he is, “I would, yeah? But my Da, he’s been looking forward to it. And Theo, and--”

“Niall,” Harry interrupts, sounds like maybe he’s about to laugh, “I get it. I really do.”

Niall wishes he could see Harry’s face. He settles for pressing his lips to Harry’s neck again instead of trying to move them, too comfortable and warm to do anything else. Harry makes a soft noise like he does when he’s about to drop off, so Niall does it again. 

**

“For the record,” Niall points out, watching as Theo lines up his club, “this is not the golf I was expecting, Da.”

“Ah, but we couldn’t leave our Theo at home now, could we?” His Da laughs, tossing Niall his own miniature club from the set, the three of them set up in the garden.

Niall’d been surprised when he got in and passed out on the sofa for nearly a day, woke up expecting tee time and instead found Theo, bouncing on his stomach with a grin on his face, babbling on about they were all going to golf every day Niall was home. 

And they have, which has been sicker than Niall would have thought, able to chill out over golf with Da and Theo and Greg, spending his nights catching up at the pub with everyone else. He knows it’ll be all go once they start up the tour, that it’ll be shit to really spend time with everyone, that he and Harry will be busy as fuck. 

It’s really hitting Niall, how even though it feels like he and Harry still have a few weeks left of tour, ages in a way, that they’re gonna be more like things were in Germany with Payno and less like how America was, just the two of them able to do whatever they want. 

He hasn’t mentioned anything to Haz, not in the calls or texts or the one aborted FaceTime when he thought his Da was gonna be out long enough. Haz is having a great time, sending Niall constant texts and samples of the song he and John are working on, a song that’s so good Niall can’t think of enough words to tell Harry how much he loves it. 

Harry knows how it’ll be, anyway. There’s no need to bring them both down when it’s been a nice break. 

“Uncle Niall!” Theo yells, Niall sure that he only has one volume setting, as loud as his voice will go, “HOLE IN ONE!”

“Amazing! Look at that,” Niall snaps a pic of the grinning Theo with Da next to him. “Gonna put you up on my instagram, Theo. Gonna be real famous for your golfing.”

Theo grins, turning to Da and going on about his future as a famous golfer, Da exclaiming at all the right parts while Niall ducks into the house to get a fresh beer. 

He opens instagram, checking his feed before he posts the pic of Theo. Harry must be spending the day at home, because he’s posted a series of photos from around his house, Niall’s face growing hot when he realizes what they all are, the progression of all the rooms they’d shagged there last time Niall was in LA, all in Willow. 

The wall of guitars, captioned “Tune Up for what?” (That fucking leather couch, Niall’d had a red mark on his arse for hours.)

The kitchen counter, “Toasted.” (Niall had laughed forever after Harry accidentally burnt his finger on the toaster oven they forgot was still on, shuffling over just enough so that Harry could run his finger under some cold water while Niall fucked him.)

Finally, Harry’s bed. “Lie-in.” It’s a dumbfuck shot, just half of a pillow and Harry’s hair, but it still sets Niall on edge, makes him double check the Theo calendar Denise makes every year that Da’s got tacked up on the wall, makes sure that it’s really only two days before Harry will be there, spending one night in Mullingar before they start. 

Niall knows the time difference is fucked, but Harry answers anyway. “Nialler!”

“Having a bit of a relaxed day?” Niall laughs, “you are a fuckface.”

“It’s my one day off, Niall, I was just,” Harry pauses, and Niall can practically hear him grinning, “taking a little trip down memory lane.”

“Listen, I have to get back to it, I just,” Niall groans when he can hear how gritty Harry’s exhale is, “wanted to hear your voice, I guess.”

“I think you could find a recording of my voice, somewheres.”

“Stuff it.”

“Wellll,” Harry draws it out, and Niall knows he better ring off immediately before this turns into a real awkward situation in his Da’s small loo.

“Gotta go, Haz.”

“Yeah yeah,” Harry sighs on the other end, “guess I’ll get back to it.”

“Enjoy the break, Haz,” Niall rings off before he loses all his willpower entirely, instagramming the pic of Theo as quick as he can manage, feeling a little shaky as he walks back outside. 

**

“Tell me, Harry,” Bressie dwarfs them both when he wraps his arms around Niall and Harry, the cold bottle of his beer resting on Niall’s arm, “are you going to give the same speech at every show about our Niall? Or was this just for us Irish folk?”

“I--” Harry sputters, sending Niall off into fits. 

“You have been doing the same one this whole go,” Niall points out, trying to keep his voice neutral because he knows Harry loves his Ireland show Niall speeches. 

“I did it a little different at tonight’s, because it was our last one,” Harry frowns, “and Niall said he liked it.”

“I did like it, every time.” Niall laughs harder when Bressie makes a face at him over Harry’s head. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Bressie shakes his head, “Harry, I’ve been talking up Niall for years, I can give you some notes.”

“Listen,” Harry’s pissed, Niall can tell, his eyes gone bright. Niall knows that it’s not just the post show adrenaline, the quick wank they’d managed in the shower before the after party, that it’s because everyone’s been refilling Harry’s glass all night. Harry gestures, his movement wild, and Niall leans into the table to support himself as he loses it, feels mad with giddiness. 

Bressie shrugs, everyone joining in with Niall, “just saying, Styles.”

“I’ve known Niall for years too,” Harry sounds put out, “I think I can manage, Breslin.”

“Surname, I _am_ in trouble.” 

“I thought it was lovely, Harry.” Da’s redder than Niall’s seen him in ages, smiling wide after a week of hitting the pubs with Niall and Harry and whoever else nearly every night. 

“Thank you, Bobby.” Harry’s hugging his Da before Niall’s barely blinked, the two of them smiling and wrapped around each other. It makes Niall’s chest go a little tight, the sight of it. 

“Of course, Harry,” Da laughs, and Niall reaches out to pinch at Harry’s side, needing something to tether them both to the present.

**

“Fuck, Haz, I’m gonna,” Niall knows his grip on Harry’s hair is probably a bit too tight, but he also knows Harry doesn’t give a fuck as he thrusts into Harry’s mouth one, two, three times before he’s coming, Harry swallowing it with a groan. He stands, collapsing on top of Niall, both of them landing on Niall’s bed with a thud.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Harry’s voice is wrecked, gone so hoarse that Niall feels like a bastard for how it almost makes his cock twitch again. “Hope I don’t get interviewed tonight.”

“Who’s gonna interview you?” Niall laughs, thumbing at the drop of come on Harry’s lip. “Don’t think there’s gonna be press at Casa Malik.”

“You don’t pay attention,” Harry laughs, licking at Niall’s thumb and grinning, smile so wide that Niall could suck him off again, wonders if Harry’s up for it yet. 

“I think you don’t pay attention,” Niall laughs, “because Zayn invited us for dinner earlier and I _said_ we were going tonight and you said.”

“I said that it was sick, because you didn’t say anything other than, _talked to Zayn, dinner will be fun_ , which was clearly about what I just told you about the fashion show dinner with Alexa tonight.”

“You did _not_ say a word about that,” Niall rolls them both so he can look at Harry’s face. “I would have remembered laughing my arse off before I said no, I’m not going to a fashion show.”

Harry screws up his face, “you were busy trying to get my cock out, maybe you were compromised.”

“Listen, you were out last night and we only have a couple of days before we’re all go again, hotels and shit. I thought you would have appreciated it.”

“Oh, I did.” Harry pushes his tongue out into his cheek; Niall wishes he wasn’t so into it. 

“Anyway, Zayn called, dinner tonight.”

“I already told Alexa I was going for sure though.”

“Harry.”

“It’s charity!”

“It’s Laser, Haz.” Niall grins, “it’s just us, too, Liam and Louis can’t go. Something about how they’re busy with some tour?”

“Those poor souls.” Harry bites at his lip, reaching out to palm at Niall’s hip. “I’m sad to miss Laser, but. Lex can’t make it to any of our shows, I won’t see her for ages otherwise.”

“Nah, I get it.” Niall leans up, kisses the tip of Harry’s nose, feeling like a twat. “My place, later?”

“It is where I sleep, so.” Harry laughs, “can’t get out of _that_.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Ooo, not now babe,” Harry grins, “but rain check.”

**

“Ni!!!!” Laser squeals, running away when Niall tries to chase him down again, going slow enough that Laser thinks he’s winning. 

“Got ya!” Niall scoops up the laughing Laser, squirming in Niall’s arms as he blows a raspberry on his neck, Laser shrieking so loud Niall feels bad for a mo, knowing Perrie’s sleeping upstairs.

“This is really not what I meant when I asked you to help me put him to bed,” Zayn says from the doorway, holding Laser’s pajamas and a nappy. 

“He started it,” Niall shifts so he’s got Laser on his hip, Laser kicking his legs happily. 

“Yeah, that’s why when I left to get his stuff he was about to pass out. He seemed up for it.”

“He’s just more like his Mum,” Niall laughs when Laser’s face lights up, yelling “Mama!!” at the mention of Perrie. 

“Dunno what you mean,” Zayn takes Laser from Niall, lying him down on the sofa and nodding for Niall to get his blanket from across the room.

“If he was like you,” Niall dangles the blanket over Laser’s face, him grabbing it in his little fists and sighing happily, “he’d just be sleeping all the time. Pez has got energy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn laughs as he changes Laser, Niall amazed at how sure he seems of what he’s doing, “that’s why she’s passed out already.”

“Dunno if you know this, Zayn,” Niall reaches up to help thread Laser’s arm through his sleeve, “but she’s pregs. With your child.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.” Zayn snorts, leaning forward and smoothing back Laser’s hair, smiling down at him. It’d been mental, seeing Pez after what Niall hadn’t realized was months, her already looking so pregnant Niall felt bad, remembering how at the end with Laser it’d seemed like she was so big Niall couldn’t look at her without feeling uncomfortable or wanting to belt Zayn over it, how dare you do that. 

“She’s so…” Niall trails off, Laser reaching for his hand when Zayn hauls him up into his lap, humming something Niall can’t place. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s…” Zayn laughs, “Pez and I worked out this little song to sing to him at night, he loves it.”

“Sounds sick,” Niall smiles at Laser, getting a grin in return before he buries his face in Zayn’s neck.

“Yeah, we’ve actually,” Zayn rocks a bit, standing up, “been working on a few others? Pez insisted they couldn’t both have the same lullabye, and what Pez says.”

“Don’t let Lou and Liam know, they’ll have you two doing a lullabye tour as soon as Pez is on the mend after number two.”

“Liam knows, he and Sophia have a recording of it to use when they mind him.” Zayn ducks his head, “okay, Laser, say goodnight to Uncle Ni, yeah?”

“Night night,” Laser says automatically, curling his fingers in a small wave when he rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “Love love.”

“Did he?” Niall stops, “say…”

“Yeah, it’s his new thing,” Zayn grins, “made Louis cry, was sick.”

“I--” Niall feels weirdly floored, been feeling that way all night, felt like he was making Pez repeat all her questions about the tour before he could answer. 

“Have a seat, Nialler, be right back.” Zayn walks out of the room, and Niall sits on the sofa, listening distantly to Zayn singing low, crackly through the monitor that Niall knows must be somewhere in the room. It really is a good song, slow and sweet. He imagines how it sounds when Pez joins in, how their voices sound together. Wonders how they write together, if it’s like him and Haz, or. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, feels worn out with his mind lately. 

He must close his eyes, because it feels like no time’s passed at all before Zayn’s there, his hand firm on Niall’s shoulder.

“Forgot this,” Zayn holds up Laser’s pacifier, “but he was out, so I’ll see how long this lasts before I’ll have to bring it to him.”

“Cheers,” Niall says, after a moment, Zayn a heavy weight next to him.

“You okay?” Zayn speaks like he always does, slow and easy, not like anything’s pointed, but, “you’ve been quiet all night, when you’re quiet that’s pretty fucked.”

“I,” Niall doesn’t know what to say, feels this weird urge to get it out, tell someone without them knowing about it first, or finding out from he and Harry being dumbfucks. 

“Didn’t know if it was just end of tour, or something else.” Zayn shrugs, “can just put on telly, if you want.”

“Been shagging Harry,” Niall’s chest expands and releases almost painfully as soon as he says it, not sure if there’s any other way to...explain it, really. “For, well, a while now. Since last tour. Eight months.”

He can hear Zayn’s breathing, unable to look at him. It doesn’t change, just the steady inhale exhale that he’s memorized over the years. 

“Okay.” Zayn sounds like he’s about to say something else, Niall biting his lip, when there’s a cry from the monitor, Laser suddenly loud. 

“Fuck,” Niall sighs. “You gotta.”

“He just needs,” Zayn holds up the pacifier again, looking dazed. “Be back in a tick.”

He gets up, movements slow, and Niall knows he’s reading too much into it, doesn’t really give a fuck because it feels so good to tell someone, to talk about it on his own terms. He’s been shagging Harry. 

He can hear Laser calm down immediately, it not long before Zayn’s back in the room, settling heavily next to Niall. They don’t speak, Niall finding himself matching his breathing to Laser’s as it fills up the room.

“Eight months.” Zayn turns his head in Niall’s peripheral vision, “that’s a long time. For the both of you, yeah?”

Niall doesn’t know what he thought Zayn was going to say, but a remark upon his and Harry’s spotty track record for long term anything wasn’t even on the list. It’s not that it’s untrue, it is. It’s just. Hearing Zayn say it. 

Niall finally meets Zayn’s eyes. “‘tis.”

“Gonna keep at it?” Zayn blinks, his face open, and Niall feels an urge to lean his head on his shoulder. 

“Think so. Why, Zayn, want the details?”

Zayn makes a face. “I’m ace, thanks.”

“Because eight months is a lot of fuck details, if that’s what you want,” Niall keeps his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb anything, and Zayn groans.

“I will kick you out of my house.” Zayn reaches for Niall then, his arm too tight around Niall’s shoulders. “Who knows?”

“Al.” Niall takes a deep breath. “Payno.”

“That’s it? Because if Liam knows…”

“He promised. It was...when he was on tour with us. Saw something on my phone.”

Zayn laughs, sounding like it’s coming all the way from his toes. “Haz still into dick pics?”

“He-” Niall can’t go on, Zayn laughing like he’s dying, still holding Niall so close he can see that Zayn’s eyes have gone wet with it. 

After what feels like forever, Zayn calms down enough to choke out, “won’t tell Pez. It’ll be all over.”

“Thanks.” Niall butts his head into Zayn’s neck. “Zayn. _Thanks_.”

Zayn shrugs, “‘course. You good, Ni?”

“Yeah,” Niall wonders if Zayn even knows what thoughts he’s set off in Niall’s head, Niall feeling like he’s drowning in it, “I’m good.”

“Then,” Zayn squeezes Niall’s shoulder, “good.”

&&&

Niall’s already got a cuppa waiting for Harry when he stumbles downstairs in the morning, bless him. 

“Bless you,” Harry curls his fingers ‘round the mug, the one that he uses every time he stays, “feeling a bit worse for wear, Alexa kept taking me to a new afterparty, I think all of London was one big afterparty last night.”

He’d stumbled in pissed at 3 AM, Niall barely waking when Harry’d landed on the bed, which was a bit shit because the way Niall’s back was curved gave Harry a few ideas that had never come to fruition. 

“Yeah, looks like she was propping you up by the end of the night,” Niall turns his computer so Harry can see the pap shots. When did his shirt get so unbuttoned? “It’s good you got smashed for charity, Haz.”

“I also,” Harry points out, ignoring the smile playing at Niall’s lips, “gave _loads_ of money.”

“Good on you, Haz.” Niall gets up, “what do ya want for breakfast? I’ve got food in, so I have a lot to offer.”

“Yeah you do.” Harry looks at Niall’s arse when he leans over the fridge, remembers his plans from earlier. “I do have some ideas.”

“Food ideas, Haz.”

“I can involve food if you’d like,” Harry shrugs, waiting for Niall to turn so he can grin wickedly. “Or, eggs. I’d fancy a scramble.”

“Scramble it is.” Niall laughs as he gets out the bowl, cracking eggs. “You can tell me the rest later, yeah? Before our meeting?”

“Oh.” Harry had forgotten that, wishes he’d remembered before he agreed to the last party. “What time?”

“Three.” Niall tilts the pan so the butter spreads out. “So we’ve got a couple of hours to work with.”

“Dunno if that’ll be long enough, if I’m being honest.” 

“Well.” Niall smiles down at the eggs, like he’s got some big secret. If Harry’s head wasn’t pounding he’d get up, fit himself behind Niall, make him forget the eggs.

“Told Zayn last night.” 

Well. Harry wasn’t expecting that. He thinks for a moment, taking in how Niall’s not looking up from the pan, intent on Harry’s breakfast, like he’d just asked Harry if he wanted pepper instead of that he told Zayn anything.

“Told him that-” Harry starts, trailing off when Niall nods, looking up at him with this odd smile Harry can’t read.

“It’s fine, he’s not telling anyone.”

“I don’t think _Zayn_ telling people is what we’ve got to worry about, now.” Harry takes a sip of his tea, raising his eyebrows at Niall over the cup, hoping Niall will laugh.

He does, soft. “I dunno Haz, it’s been all go lately, it just slipped out. Dunno. I just told him.”

“Niall,” Harry stands up slowly, walking around the counter to hook his chin over Niall’s shoulder, making Niall sag a bit back into him. “Obviously I don’t mind.”

“It’s just Zayn.” Niall tips his head back, pressing his lips to Harry’s jaw in the spot that always makes Harry’s eyes flutter. “Took a video of Laser, taught him to say your name.”

“Niall, why didn’t you lead with that,” Harry takes the plate when Niall hands it to him, grabbing a fork from the drawer, “clearly that’s the most important news.”

“Eat up, Haz,” Niall snorts, “I’ll go grab my phone.”

He ambles off, Harry watching him leave as he eats. 

“Three,” Harry says, out loud. Just to hear himself say it.

**

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Niall says, the dressing room door slamming shut behind him. “I think I lost him, but like, he knows where we are so it’s not going to work.”

He kisses Harry like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to do, licking into his mouth with a desperation Harry feels in his bones. They’ve only got a handful of shows left and it’s been out of control the whole way, no end in sight. They’ve got family and friends coming in for each one and not a minute of quiet in between. It reminds Harry of that rough leg in Germany but worse, because at least in Germany they managed to ditch Liam once or twice. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Niall pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Harry’s, “we have to stop. I just --”

“Yeah.” Harry gets it. He’ll find a way to ditch Gemma tonight if it kills him. It’ll have to be after he and Niall go out to dinner with her and Mum and Robin, though. Fuck. He’s starting to regret ending the tour in the UK. Having had Niall to himself for so long and now being forced to share, it’s been, well. Complete shit.

He cups Niall’s cheeks in his palms, kissing him again, careful not to let it get too deep. 

“We’ll find a way, yeah?” he says as he takes a step back. Niall nods, wiping his hand across over his mouth. After a second he gives Harry a small, if frustrated, smile. It’s fine. They’ll be fine. 

**

It’s so fucking late when Harry finally manages to let himself into Niall’s room. 

“‘Bout fucking time,” Niall mumbles. 

“Soz, mate, Gem was telling me about her new boyfriend, I couldn’t -- oh, shit.” Harry stumbles over something, probably Niall’s shoes, or maybe that pair of Harry’s that have gone missing, it’s hard to tell in the dark. He fumbles forward until he hits the edge of the bed. It belatedly occurs to him that he could’ve turned on a light. Huh. “I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“What was I -- oh, Gem, right. I couldn’t escape! I was trapped. She just kept going on and on and on.”

Harry stops when the bedside lamp flicks on, Niall blinking at him in the sudden glow of the room. 

“Hi.” Harry pulls his shirt the rest of the way off and kicks out of his trousers. 

“Thought you were gonna abandon her to the wolves if you had to,” Niall says, watching Harry crawl across the bed. It feels huge. Harry’s a bit breathless from the journey.

“I _tried_.” Harry braces himself over Niall so he can kiss him a proper hello. It’s been ages since they’ve had a good snog. He can barely remember the last time they had a proper shag. But now he’s here, Niall all soft and sleep-warm. 

Harry has to pull away so he doesn’t yawn directly into Niall’s mouth. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Niall says, the words stretching around a yawn of his own. “Fuck.”

Harry relaxes his arms, chuckling when Niall makes a soft _oomph_ when Harry lands on him. “I really tried.”

He had, especially after Niall’d bailed early on, claiming he’d been touring for too long and was too tired for another round of shots. Harry had been, too, but Gemma was so excited to see him. It’s been so bloody long since he’s spent any time with her.

“I know.” Niall pats Harry’s head a few times. “Just gimme a minute to wake up, then we can,” he breaks off for another yawn, “make up for lost time.”

Harry nods, turning his face into Niall’s shoulder. He’s so comfortable, like a human pillow. Like one of those memory ones, becoming custom-molded to Harry after all this time. Harry’ll just close his eyes for a minute while Niall wakes up and then. Go time. 

**

The lamp is still on when he wakes up. That’s the first thing Harry notices. The lamp is still on even though there’s light streaming through the windows and oh, fuck.

“Niall.” He shakes Niall’s shoulder gently, watching the way his eyelids flutter. Harry leans in, trailing kisses along Niall’s jaw. He can tell when Niall fully comes awake, his sharp inhalation followed by a low groan before he turns, rolling so he’s facing Harry.

“I’m up,” he mumbles, stubble dragging along Harry’s skin. They’ve been so busy lately Niall’s forgone shaving, pretending like he’ll have a beard by the time they finish tour. It’s not enough to even be noticeable any time other than now, the rough scratch of it making Harry hiss.

He becomes acutely aware of his morning wood when Niall gets him flat on his back, covering Harry’s body with his own. 

“We fell asleep,” he says, a bit stupidly, Niall pulling back to smile down at him. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Harry for a moment, fingertips tracing over the planes of his cheek before he ducks back down, licking his way into Harry’s mouth like he doesn’t give two shits about morning breath.

Harry couldn’t care less, either, he’s just glad they’ve got time now, this whole big bed and so much silence, like the rest of the world’s not awake yet. All he can hear are the soft sounds Niall’s making, barely audible over the hum of the radiator. Harry holds Niall closer, rocking his hips up, wondering if he can make Niall any louder or if it’s too early. 

He’s not sure when or how Niall gets their pants off, Harry can’t remember having anything to do with it. Can’t remember Niall reaching for lube, either, but his fingers are slick against Harry’s arse.

“Alright, yeah?” 

Niall waits for Harry to laugh, say, “Fuck yeah” before he’s slipping one finger in carefully like he’s testing the waters. It feels like it’s been years, Harry’s insides going tense in the seconds before he relaxes, groaning out, Niall grinning down at him.

“Missed you.” He’s moving so slowly Harry feels like he could melt into the mattress.

“Missed _you_ ,” Harry says, biting his lip when Niall adds a second finger.

“Missed my cock, you mean.” 

“That too. Everything.” He blinks, feeling like he’s coming up from underwater, sleepy and feeling boneless from the slow glide of Niall’s fingers, the way it’s matching the lazy way he’s snogging Harry, kissing him like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

“C’mon,” he says, sure he’s slurring his words as he pushes back against Niall’s hand, “‘m ready, Ni, c’mon.

“Yeah?” Niall’s still got pillow creases on his face, his hair sticking up in all directions. “Let me just --”

“S’fine,” Harry stops him from reaching for the nightstand, stomach turning over at the way Niall goes pink, his eyes widening. 

“Fuck, Haz.” Niall sounds like he’s been smoking all night. He darts forward, kissing Harry hard as he urges Harry’s legs up higher.

It’s bordering on too much like this, Niall boxing him in, their chests pressed together, both of them still warm from sleeping. Harry loses his breath when Niall eases his cock in, a torturous slide that feels like it takes forever. It’s made worse by how Niall’s watching his face the whole time, waiting for something Harry can’t figure out. He closes his eyes against it but it doesn’t help; his brain supplies Niall’s eyes, dark and yet somehow still sleep-soft, the flush in his cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Jesus, Ni,” Harry gasps out, one hand gripping the bedding, the other coming up to dig into the nape of Niall’s neck. “Fucking _move_.”

He tries to urge Niall along, hitching his legs higher, but he can’t get it right, has to let Niall do it all from this angle, even though the bastard’s laughing softly. Like Harry’s hardship is a right riot. Like only one of them’s been waiting all week for this. 

“Better?” 

Niall’s fucking him so slowly it’s absurd. “Hardly.” 

It doesn’t spur Niall on like he’d hoped. It doesn’t do anything at all except make Niall chuckle -- a noise Harry feels all the way in the soles of his feet -- before kissing him again. Part of Harry wants to complain but it _is_ nice, the way everything feels gentle, steady. It reminds him of Majorca, how everything had felt so unrushed then. So possible. 

He digs his fingers into Niall’s ribs, tilting his chin until Niall gets the hint and wraps a hand round his cock. It feels so good Harry makes a sound like he’s choking. Niall snorts.

“Shut up,” Harry gasps out, trying to twist away from the rasp of Niall’s stubble against the ticklish part of his neck. “It’s your fault, anyway.”

“I know.” NIall pushes himself up so he can get a good look at Harry, changing the angle in the process, making Harry arch under him, one hand flailing out for balance.

“Do that again.”

It’s like seeing a wave form while you’re standing on the shore, this slow crest building inside him. Harry digs his nails into Niall’s shoulders, shocked by the grittiness of his own voice when he says, “just like that, just like that,” Niall maintaining a maddeningly steady rhythm even as Harry clenches around him, aching for it.

“Jesus, Haz,” Niall sounds like someone’s punched him. His rhythm falters, breath catching as his hand goes tight around Harry’s cock. Harry bears down, clenching again, rocking up into Niall’s hand.

“God, I love you,” Niall says, as his hips stutter and he’s comes with a groan, his breath hot against Harry’s neck. 

Harry’s too stunned to react, Niall still pulsing inside him like he’s trying to sync up to Harry’s heartbeat. He knows he goes still, his mind going completely blank save for Niall’s voice in that moment. It’s -- fuck, it’s too much. If he were holding something, surely he’d drop it. 

Niall’s cock twitches one last time and Harry whimpers at the feeling. Something in that must stir Niall because he adjusts his grip on Harry’s cock, jerking him as he pulls out. Harry still feels the loss acutely, biting his lip to stay quiet through it.

“Sorry,” Niall says, and then, before Harry can tell him it’s a stupid thing to apologize for, Niall’s shuffling around, the mattress dipping before Niall slips three fingers back inside him. 

“Fucking hell, Haz,” Niall breathes out, his jaw gone slack with awe. Harry can only imagine what he’s seeing, how he’s probably stretched and full of come. He feels his face go hot. Niall ducks his head, kisses a path along Harry’s thigh, making every muscle Harry has go taut with anticipation before Niall guides Harry’s cock into his mouth.

The noise Harry makes isn’t even words. He feels like his brain has been put through a blender. All he can do is grip Niall’s hair, rock up into the warm, wet heat of his mouth before shoving back down onto his hand.

It doesn’t take much, Niall sucking hard at the head of Harry’s cock, tonguing his slit while crooking his fingers just right and then Harry’s coming, barely able to give Niall any warning. 

“Fuck,” Niall coughs, wiping his mouth against his shoulder. He pets Harry’s side before withdrawing his fingers. 

“Morning,” Harry says dopily. He feels like he could sleep for ten more hours. He’d settle for a kip, but a quick glance at the clock says even that’s impossible.

Niall squeezes Harry’s knee, arching forward so he can kiss Harry again, stretching out until he’s fully blanketing Harry. They’ve got five minutes, tops, before they have to start showering. This seems like the best use of it.

**

“Thought you’d be sick of me by now,” Gemma says, making a face.

“Oh, I am. This lunch is to tell you you’ve been disinvited from Christmas. We had a family meeting about it and you’re,” Harry draws his hand across his neck.

“Brilliant. Wasn’t much looking forward to that flight anyway.”

Watching Gem poke around the hotel room makes Harry uneasy. The room’s clean in a way it shouldn’t be, too much of Harry’s stuff spilled around Niall’s room instead. They’ve been conscious about keeping their things separate lately but it seems to get all mixed up no matter how hard they try. He should’ve had her meet him in the lobby, or at the restaurant, anywhere else, privacy be damned.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, still somewhat reeling from what Niall’d said. They hadn’t brought it up after, hadn’t said anything at all while they hurried off to brunch with the lads, Niall splitting off early to meet up with Eoghan and Laura. The show had gone fine last night, better than fine, and they’d gone for drinks after, everything adding up to them tossing each other off before passing out, the same combination of exhaustion and overscheduling that’s been their enemy since they hit Ireland.

“Niall?” Gemma says, snapping Harry back to attention.

“What? He’s good. Still asleep probably, or, no, he was supposed to be going out to lunch, too. Not with us, with Bressie? Maybe? We went out with them last night, it was,” Harry exhales heavily, hand on his stomach. They hadn’t gotten too pissed but only because they were trying to get home. He stops talking when he notices Gemma’s staring at him. “What?”

“I asked if you were replacing me with Niall at Christmas, but… Good to know.”

Harry laughs, mumbling an apology as he sits on the sofa next to her, his head on her shoulder so she can scratch his scalp. 

“It’s almost over,” she says quietly. Harry closes his eyes. She thinks he’s cracked because of the exhaustion, the way he used to be at his wits end when tours were finishing up, the constant traveling and performing doing a right number on him. He doesn’t know how to explain to her that he’s sort of dreading the end of this one, glad to be going home but already missing this thing he and Niall’ve built together. It’s such a good thing, the best, and.

“Niall’s in love with me,” he says, feeling like he needs to tell _someone_. Gemma’s hand stills and Harry realizes how it sounds. “No, like,” he takes a deep breath, “me and Niall’ve been shagging --”

“Ugh, _Harry_.” He doesn’t have to look at her to know the grossed-out face she’s making, he knows it as well at the back of his hand, but how else is he supposed to put it?

“-- for awhile. Since the American tour,” he says before she can ask, “and the other day he said he loves me and…” 

“And?”

Harry shrugs, picking at a rip in his jeans. He doesn’t think she wants to hear the details of it, doesn’t know what else to say. She presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Do you love him, too?” she asks after a long pause, and out of all the questions she could’ve asked, all the ones he was steeling himself for, he still feels unprepared. 

“It’s Niall,” he says simply. 

“Oh, Hazza.” He can feel her chuckle as she starts scratching his scalp again. “I can’t believe you’ve kept it a secret this long.”

“That’s what Liam said when he found out.”

She laughs again, louder this time, and then, “Huh.”

“What?”

“No, it just… makes sense, why you’ve been such a strop monster lately. Why you tried to rush me out of the pub a few nights back.”

“I did not.”

“Please.”

“It’s been so busy since we got here, we haven’t had a lot of free time,” Harry says after a minute, ignoring Gemma’s groan.

“You could’ve told me sooner. I would’ve understood.”

He’s pretty sure she’s talking about him trying to shake her, but still. “We were… it’s just been us for so long, you know? Only Al and Liam know. And Zayn. And you now, I guess.”

“Right, well. I’m aces at secrets, so don’t worry. Hey!” She pinches him when he scoffs. “You still think Dusty was the one who broke your sunglasses that time.”

“I knew it!” Harry sits up, pointing at her.

“You shouldn’t have left them out like that, Mum dropped a magazine and they fell and the lens popped right out.”

“Finally, the truth comes out!” They’re both laughing as she bats his finger out of her face.

“It was years ago,” she says, “get over it.”

“Years of living a lie.”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, you promised me lunch and I’ve got loads more questions.”

“Gem,” he whinges, rolling to his feet.

“We can use a code name, it’ll be fun.” 

“Fun for who?” 

“Me, mostly.” She goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“I can’t believe you and Mum broke my sunglasses,” he mutters, letting her push him out the door, laughing the whole way.

**

“Haz!” Niall comes flying into the room, stopping when he notices there are other people in there. “Sorry, we just have that thing.”

“Oh, shit,” Harry looks at his watch, “is it time for the --”

“Conference call? Yeah.”

Harry pointedly doesn’t look at Gemma as they duck out of the room, Harry following Niall blindly down the hall until they’re safely in Niall’s room.

“Gemma knows,” Harry says, kissing Niall thoroughly before pulling back to explain. “I told her yesterday, she said she’s happy for us.”

Harry’d been surprised by how good it felt to talk about it, so different from the sheer panic that came with Al and then Liam finding out. 

“That’s great and all, but,” Niall noses at Harry’s jaw, licking over the spot that makes Harry shiver, “don’t really wanna talk about your sister right now, Harry.”

He drags his knuckles along the outline of Harry’s cock, leaning back, eyebrows raised. He’s got a valid point. Harry knocks his hand away so he can struggle out of his trousers, tripping over them en route to the bed, already half-hard at the promise of whatever it is Niall’s got planned.

Niall mouths at him through his pants, his breath hot and damp. Harry tangles his fingers in Niall’s hair, lifting his hips so Niall can work his pants down, confused when he moves away entirely.

“What are you doing?” He watches Niall crawl onto the bed, shuffling around. 

“We’ve got like, no time, Haz. Gonna multitask.” He pushes his hips forward, his cock bumping Harry’s chin and oh.

“Oh, right, fuck,” Harry moves where Niall pulls him, curling a bit so they both can reach, and then Niall’s mouth is on his cock and it’s all Harry can do to keep up, trying to match everything Niall does. Trying to do him one better, like it’s a race to see who can make the other come first.

“That was,” Harry flings his arm out, patting clumsily at Niall’s side, feeling winded, “brilliant idea, really.”

“Thought you’d like it.” Niall tucks Harry back into his pants before sitting up. He grins lazily, his mouth obscenely red. Harry’s heart feels like someone’s reached into his chest and squeezed it. He doesn’t want to go back to work just yet.

“Hey, can we just,” he grabs at Niall’s arm, dragging him in for a kiss and then pulling further, until Niall’s curled entirely around Harry, “just for five minutes.”

Niall laughs softly, his lips tickling the back of Harry’s neck. “Alright. Set an alarm, though.”

“Okay.”

“ _Haz_.” 

Harry sighs before fishing his phone off the floor, handing it to Niall so he can set the bloody alarm. He’s dead-tired, eyes already slipping closed, his breath matching up with Niall’s in no time at all.

**

The shit part is that they really do have meetings and conference calls once they hit London proper. He and Niall lose an entire day to Louis and Liam’s big conference room, hammering out the logistics of the album and everything that comes with it.

“September is non-negotiable,” Louis says finally. “That gives you a break for the hols -- which you wanted -- and then you start recording in the new year. At this point we don’t care what you put on it, it could be the dubstep remix of your live album if that’s what you decide your dumbfuck hearts want --”

“Hey!” Harry says, Niall flipping him off.

“-- but whatever it is, it’s done by September. What’s that holiday, the American one?”

“Fourth of July?” Liam says.

Louis narrows his eyes. “Yes. The Fourth of July, famously celebrated in _September_ , Payno.”

“Labor Day,” Harry says, before things can get out of hand. The wedding has Louis on edge even more than usual; he’s ducked out to take more calls from the wedding planner than Harry’s ever seen him leave a meeting for. 

“Done by then, we’ll release it end of the month. Yes?”

They all nod, even Liam. It’s a smart deal, Harry knows -- single in August, album just before fall. They’re letting him and Niall have the full creative control they demanded. 

“Cheers, Lou,” Harry says. “You too, Li.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis already has his phone to his ear, waving over his shoulder as he leaves, “I’ll be there in twenty, Eleanor, I’m leaving now.”

“Making a break for the States soon,” Liam nods at Harry, all of them pushing to their feet, “smart man. Me and Nialler are going to be stuck with him.”

“Only til February,” Niall says, gathering up the last of their things. “We’ll manage, yeah?”

“Could come stay with me,” Harry offers, unthinking. Liam laughs first. 

“Don’t think it’d fly with Soph, but thanks, mate.” 

“I’ll just hide out at Liam’s,” Niall says, something strange in his face that makes Harry’s stomach hurt a bit. “Sophia’ll love it.”

“Not joking, she probably would, mate.”

**

“You could, you know,” Harry says once they’re safely in the car. “Come stay with me, I mean.”

“I am. New Year’s, remember?”

“I meant --”

“I know.” Niall sighs, putting the car back in park. They haven’t even reversed out of the spot yet. “And I’m excited to come see you, but… LA isn’t London, Haz.”

“I know. I get it.” He does, is the thing. As much as he’s not looking forward to a Niall-less existence at the end of tour, he’s still psyched to go home. See his friends, fly his family out for the holidays, actually see the sun for more than twelve minutes a day. Niall’s got the same things, it’s just shit that they’re _here_ , a whole long-arse plane ride from where Harry is.

“God, this is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry reaches over the console to tangle their fingers together, “but we’ve done it before. It’ll just be real shit at first and then --”

“Then we’ll get used to it. Ugh, Skype sex.”

“Could be worse, could be no sex because Payno’s dragging us to bars. Or Bobby’s dragging us to bars. Or my mum’s insisting we have a family dinner. Or --”

“Alright, I get it,” Niall slaps his hand gently over Harry’s mouth. “Plus, we have recording, so we’ll like, see each other loads.”

“Exactly,” Harry nods, “because I don’t know if you heard, but the album’s due by September.”

“Non-negotiable!” Niall says, a startling imitation of Louis that has Harry cracking up.

“We’ll manage.” Harry pushes forward in his seat so he can kiss Niall, his thumb stroking the cut of his cheekbone. It’s this type of thing he’ll miss the most, he thinks. The quiet moments don’t happen as much when you’re wanking over FaceTime. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his forehead against Niall’s, breathing him in, “I love you.”

Niall pauses, stretched awkwardly across the console, his mouth curving into a grin. It doesn’t go away even as he’s kissing Harry again.

“Really wish we weren’t in this shitting carpark right now,” he mumbles. 

“Wanna sneak back upstairs, bend me over that giant conference table?”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Haz,” Niall sputters, gone red from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck. Harry laughs as Niall throws the car into reverse like if they don’t get out of here immediately something terrible might happen.

“I love you too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Harry turns his face out to the window, sure that he couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to. It’s going to suck, being apart all the time again, but Harry shoves all the dread down and focuses on right now, certain that everything he’s feeling will be enough to carry him through the worst of it.

&&&

There’s a giddiness backstage before their last show, so many people Niall loves crowded in the same room. Niall tries to soak it up instead of acknowledging what looms after, Harry’s flight back to LA tomorrow and the long two weeks before he’s back again, flying in for a quick weekend of wrap-up meetings before the year-end.

“Hey,” Zayn leans into Niall, startling him out of his reverie, “your flies are open.”

He laughs hysterically when Niall panics, keeps laughing well after Niall’s elbowed him in the gut. 

“You ready?” Zayn asks. Niall’s not sure what he’s talking about, ready for the show, the end of tour, what, so he just shrugs. Harry’s sat on the floor, nodding at something Laser’s saying. He catches Niall’s eye and winks. Zayn makes a retching sound.

“Fuck off,” Niall shoves him, laughing, distantly aware of how Liam’s behind them, filming everything on his phone. “What are you doing, Payno? Is this some sort of behind-the-scenes footage you’re going to package with the album?”

Louis makes a face. “That’s not a bad idea, actually, Niall. Say hi to the camera, boys.” He pushes Liam’s arm so the camera’s pointed where Louis wants, Harry waving from the floor.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Got you two something.” 

Harry says excuse me to Laser so he can get the paper out of his pocket, standing up so he can hand it to Louis. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

“Jeez, Louis.” Zayn cups his hands over Laser’s ears, Louis ignoring him as he stares at the receipt Harry’s just handed him. 

“We’re not expensing your -- what is this, your dry cleaning? Are you shitting me, Haz?” He winces at the annoyed noise Zayn makes. “Sorry.” 

“Hang on,” Liam points, camera forgotten by his side, “what's this, on the back?” He mouths the letters as he reads them, _BYR_ , _E2M_. “Is this -- did you make a proper set list?”

“This is literally rubbish,” Louis says while Liam's pulling them both into a hug. 

“Thanks, lads.” 

“Thank _you_ , like,” Niall says, feeling overwhelmed suddenly. He can’t look at Harry, can’t look at anybody, even Liam’s big dumb eyes are making him feel like he’s about to lose it, “for, Christ, for bloody everything.” 

“Are you crying?” Louis asks. Niall swings his arm out, catching Louis in the stomach. 

“Fuck you.” 

“ALRIGHT,” Zayn says loudly, “we’ll just wait OUTSIDE.”

Niall's only saved from blubbering by Louis twisting his nipple and Laser yelling “bye bye! Bye bye!” as Zayn carries him into the hall. He can tell by the wet sound of Harry’s laugh that he’s not as lucky.

**

“We’ve said this before,” Harry says, speaking to the crowd but his body turned toward Niall, “but I honestly think this is probably the best crowd we’ve ever had.”

“Definitely,” Niall says, meaning it. The show’s been spectacular, probably their best one yet, and it’s only half gone. 

“Definitely.” Harry grins at him as the crowd cheers. “Now normally this is when we'd like… tune our guitars for a minute, maybe have a joke-off, but not only is this our LAST SHOW,” he shouts it for emphasis, the crowd going mental. Harry beams directly at Niall the whole time, until it dies down enough for him to keep talking. 

“I guess they're glad to see us go.”

“Sounds like,” Niall laughs, shrugging when Harry shrugs. 

“Anyway! As I was saying, we have a friend here and it's his birthday.” The crowd screams again and Niall wonders how many of them know whose birthday it is, how many of them aren't holdover fans. He'd played the first verse of “Don’t Forget Where You Belong” as filler a few shows back and less than half the crowd reacted, and that’s far less obscure than knowing Laser’s turning two. “And we want to bring him out so we can all sing to him, but we can only do that if you promise to be _very quiet_ because his ears aren't fully formed.” 

Niall glances to the wings in time to catch the face Zayn makes at that, exaggerating it when he sees Niall looking. He points and Laser follows his hand, waving when he notices Niall, leaning forward until Zayn sets him down. The crowd gasps when he toddles out, only going a few steps before Niall scoops him up. 

“This is Laser,” Niall says, laughing at the confused face he makes, clearly unable to hear through his giant headphones. “Can you say hi to everyone?” Niall waves until Laser waves back. Next to him, Harry's bouncing on the balls of his feet like he might fly away. They’d both made arses of themselves getting Zayn to agree to this, Niall sure he was resisting just to be a tit by the end of it.

“We had to promise Laser’s dad no one would make any sudden movements,” Harry says, poking Laser in the belly as he talks, “so we all have to sing in a whisper, okay?”

Niall nearly chokes when the crowd whispers “okay” back at him, Harry’s eyes going wide like he can’t believe they’re following directions, either. 

No one makes a sound when Harry carefully takes Laser’s headphones off. “Hiya, buddy,” he says, tapping his nose, Laser laughing happily.

Harry holds up his finger, counting off silently. Laser starts sobbing before they've gotten through the second word.

“Oh no,” Harry looks well panicked, half the crowd still carrying on while he waves at them to stop. Perrie rushes out to meet Niall halfway, Laser screaming even louder when he sees her.

“I could use a pair of those headphones meself,” Niall jokes, ears ringing a bit. “Sorry, Zayn!” 

He can still hear Laser crying a bit, someone who sounds an awful lot like Louis laughing louder than anyone else. 

“Harshest critic in England, that one.” Niall finally turns back to the crowd, shrugging. They laugh quietly, like they’re not sure they’re allowed to make noise yet. “Should we move on?” 

Harry stares at him for a moment. “He's got me rattled, I can't remember what we're meant to do next.” 

The crowd finally laughs. Niall hugs him, just because he can. He tries but he can’t for the life of him remember what they’d put on the set list they gave Louis and Liam.

“Think it should be whatever we want, yeah?” 

“FREE BIRD!” some arsehole yells, just as another cluster of fans shout, “WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL!”

Harry pulls a face. “Those are both awful suggestions. How about something newer?” He sets his mic back in the stand. “Battle Fatigue, Niall?” 

Niall reaches for his guitar, trying not to think of how few songs they have left. Harry shakes his hair out of his eyes, licking his lips while he waits. Niall has to swallow a few times before it feels safe to talk. 

“Whatever you want, Haz.”

**

“Feel like we should go out or something,” Niall says as they slide into the car. 

The after party died a lot earlier than he’d anticipated, everyone begging off because of babies and cake tastings and the like. The whole thing had been weird, quiet and subdued, like something his parents would’ve thrown when he and Greg were kids. It made Niall feel unexpectedly young and out of place, him and Harry resorting to sneaking shots at the bar, laughing like they were seconds from getting yelled at for it.

“Where do you want to go, then?” Harry asks, his voice low and slow. Niall doesn’t get a chance to answer, Harry crowding up in his space and kissing him before he can think. Any real desire he has to go out disappears when Harry slides his hand up Niall’s thigh. They’re too old to be making out in the car like this, Niall knows, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to go home, get Harry into bed one last time. 

They don’t even make it that far, Harry pushing Niall onto the sofa in Niall’s lounge, licking him open until Niall’s seeing stars, sure he’ll never be able to sit in this room without getting hard again. 

“Fuck, Harry, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” His cock is hard and leaking where it’s trapped against his stomach, the bit of friction he’s getting nearly enough to set him off. 

“Good,” Harry says against Niall’s skin, Niall’s cock twitching. Haz stops though, presses a kiss to the dip of Niall’s back instead. 

Niall almost takes it back when Harry moves away, searching out the condoms he stashed down here the last time they stayed at Niall’s. It’s cold without Harry’s weight pressing into him, goosepimples budding up all along his back. 

“Haz,” he says, not caring how desperate he sounds, just wanting Harry to hurry the fuck up.

“Aw,” Harry’s there then, moving Niall around a bit, “miss me? It’s just practice for the next few weeks. Don’t want you to miss me too much while I’m gone.”

He means it as a joke, Niall knows, can tell from the stupid lilt in Harry’s voice that he’s smiling. 

“Miss your cock, you mean.” Niall pushes back, trying to take Harry’s cock in faster. Harry holds Niall’s hips steady, keeping him from moving as much as he’d like.

“Obviously.” Harry’s voice is thin, like it’s taking all his concentration to keep his thrusts shallow. Niall can feel the way he’s shaking a bit. It feels so good when Harry finally fists Niall’s cock that he wants to do something absurd, like suggest a Stylan tour of Australia. Starting tomorrow.

“Thank god my flight’s not til the afternoon,” Harry says, licking jizz off his knuckles. Niall feels disgusting, in desperate need of a shower and a kip. He kisses the closest part of Harry’s body he can reach without moving, sighing when Harry pats his side soothingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Niall,” he says, like if he repeats it enough it’ll actually be true.

**

“No, listen.”

“I’ve _been_ listening, Haz. How many more songs are there? We’ve been doing this all day.” He points his computer towards the window. “It was still day when we started.”

“Okay but sun sets at like, three, so.”

“It’s nine now,” Niall says, trying not to laugh. He doesn’t want to. They really have been at it all day, trying to pick a song to cover, just a dumb one for a dumb thing they don’t even have to do, and Harry’s here making him listen to sixteen hours worth of suggestions. “Can’t we just do “We Need A Little Christmas” and call it a day?”

“That song is shit, Niall.”

“At least it doesn’t make me want to kill myself!”

“Sufjan Stev--” Harry stops himself. “What if we do two, then? One for each of us.”

“That seems fair.” 

“Cool.” Harry smiles, leaning in so the screen is only his mouth. It’s been a week and so far it’s. Not great but not horrible, either. Niall thinks it’s partly because it still feels like a break. He’s not sure if it’ll be better or worse, Haz flying in and then flying right back out again. 

“So same time tomorrow? We can do a reveal and then work on arrangements? Or is that going to make you want to kill yourself, too?”

“Harry,” Niall laughs, “I didn’t mean I hated every song, it’s just. There were so many of them.”

“I know. I should’ve spread them out. We should’ve started this sooner. Why’d we leave it til the last minute?”

“You were too busy trying to get it in, if I recall.” 

Harry bursts out laughing. “Yeah. That was all me.”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Harry asks, Niall remembering he’s got some film screening to attend tonight, something to build up buzz for that song he’s done with John. 

“Can’t, I’m out tomorrow. Maybe Monday?” Harry’s face says everything he needs to know. “Send me what you’re thinking of, we can try to do it over email or whatever.” They can always sort it out when Harry gets to London. It’s just a thing for YouTube, not something either of them should be losing sleep over.

“Yeah, sounds good. Alright, I’m off.” The feed goes choppy before Harry ends it, the picture freezing up so Niall can’t tell if Harry’s pressed his fingers to the screen or tried to close his laptop. Niall touches his own screen just in case.

**

He’d forgotten how shit voice memos could be, Harry’s tendency to mumble making even songs Niall’s intimately familiar with hard to understand.

 _hahahaha can’t get understand a lick of this mate !_ he texts even though he knows Haz is out. He works on his own arrangement in the meantime, trying to figure out a way to make “Christmas is All Around Us” work for their voices. 

He wakes up to his phone buzzing away, new messages coming in from Harry every few seconds.

_Soz !_  
_Or are you just saying that bc you hate it ?_  
_Ill send it again anyway_  
_I’m thinking just you on the guitar. We can both play on yours and that way it’ll be different_  
_Let me know if there are problems with this one ! .x_

Niall can barely process them, too asleep to do anything but hit play on Harry’s voice memo, falling back to sleep while Harry’s low, careful voice comes clear through the speaker.

**

“Niall,” Harry sounds shattered and for a moment Niall regrets not waiting until after they’d recorded to do this. Only for a moment though. Harry claws at the back of Niall’s neck like he wants him closer, as if there’s any space left between them at all. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

He twists as best he can, kissing Niall over his shoulder, and yeah, fuck waiting. Liam and Louis don’t _need_ a track immediately, they said ideally they’d like one before the hols. That’s. 

“God, Niall,” Harry’s head lolls onto Niall’s shoulder, giving Niall a good look at the way Harry’s hair is plastered to his face. He digs his fingers into Harry’s hips, holding him in his lap while he grinds into him, Harry groaning so loud Niall thinks they might never get around to recording tonight.

“Jesus,” Niall mutters, licking at the tanned expanse of Harry’s neck. LA looks good on him. Niall had forgotten just how good. “Should see yourself, Haz. Y’look…” 

Harry arches, handing moving quick over his cock. His face is all twisted up like it gets when he’s close. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“You look,” Niall runs his tongue along the curve of Harry’s shoulder, gasping when Harry comes, his back bowed. He’s boneless after, Niall having to do most of the work as he rocks up into Harry, trying to keep the same steady pace he’d set before. 

“Good,” he says eventually, Harry still sprawled limp in his lap. “Was gonna say you look good.”

“Lame,” Harry snorts, hitting Niall’s good knee with his fist. “Think you need to call Zayn, ask him for some better words.”

Niall hums, dragging his fingertips over Harry’s sensitive cock, timing it so that Harry’s hiss fits perfectly with _make me wanna_ , Harry laughing even as he tries to swat Niall away.

**

The house feels enormous after Harry leaves. Niall keeps catching himself touching things, checking for dust, because it feels so quiet it’s as if it’s been empty for ages. Like it’s a bloody museum. 

“That’s crazy, bro,” Liam says, probably for the fifteenth time this conversation. He’d called to talk about the vocals Niall’d sent, just a demo of “Bet Your Rider.” Niall doesn’t know how they got on this topic, is sure Li’s barely paying attention anymore.

“Sorry,” Niall shakes his head, like that might help clear it, “I didn’t -- I know you’re busy.”

“S’alright,” Liam laughs, “as long as I’m in here on a call, Louis can’t come in and make me help with seating arrangements.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So we can talk about anything you want, really. I’m all ears. How’s your back garden? Have you finished Christmas shopping yet? Do you know where I can get xanax to crush up and put in Louis’s tea?” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Oh, Niall, you don’t even know. He’s taken over the conference you -- you know, the big one? All covered in boards, little flags meant to be people. I went in once, moved me and Soph to where he and El were, you’d have thought I set the whole building on fire the way he shouted.”

Niall laughs, feeling a bit more at ease with Liam on speaker, the list of potential songs for the album spread out on Niall’s coffee table. He and Haz each have one, are meant to be starring their picks to compare at some point this week. 

He snaps a pic, sends it to Harry. _If Liam kills Louis for wedding planning related reasons, do you think we still have to have this done by Sept?_

Harry still hasn’t responded by the time Niall’s rung off, had lunch, made his preliminary track picks. He feels weird, unsettled, until he remembers how big the time difference really is. They did this once before, he reminds himself. They can do it again.

It’s still a relief when Harry finally responds, late in the afternoon. _NON NEGOTIABLE !!!!!!!_

**

“Niallllll,” Harry whines, Niall barely hearing it because he’s busy throwing his things into a case. He’d meant to pack sooner, but. 

“Just like, ten more minutes, Haz. I’m to be at the airport at arse o’clock and -- oh, fuck, a tie.” He’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t wear a tie to mass.

He’s nearly finished when he realizes Harry’s been quiet for some time. “Haz?” He’ll be so pissed if Harry hung up on him. Niall stayed awake to talk to him. And pack, obviously, but that was an accident. 

“I’m here.” The edge in Harry’s voice makes Niall turn, moving closer to his laptop. From the looks of it, Harry’s almost asleep, his head thrown back, eyes closed, and --

“Are you tossing off right now? Honestly?”

“We were supposed to start twenty minutes ago,” Harry’s voice cracks a bit. Niall tracks the movement of his arm, annoyed that his dick is into it when he’s supposed to be pissed Harry’s started without him. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“You couldn’t -- come on, Harry. This was our last chance!” They’re both going to be stuck with their families for the hols, they’d set this up as a send-off and now Harry’s gone and started without him.

“Better catch up then.” Harry opens his eyes, somehow managing to look right into Niall’s. He groans, a slow grin spreading across his entire face. Niall presses the heel of his hand to his dick. “C’mon, Niall. It’s Christmas. Lemme see your package.”

“I should hang up just for that.”

“Yeah?” Harry raises one eyebrow, challenging. “You won’t, though.”

Any other day Niall would, just to prove a point. But it’s Christmas and Niall’s straining at his zip. Harry’s in California working up a sweat. 

“Only if you show me yours,” he says, waggling his eyebrows until Harry laughs brokenly and leans forward to adjust the angle on his camera.

**

His Da’s house is a different quiet than his own, the kind that’s almost eerie. It’s probably because it’s half two and Niall’s the only one still up, nursing a beer by the tree while he scrolls through his phone. Harry’s instagrammed a palm tree done up with lights.

_harrystyles: come on and let it snow_

It’s a bloody black-and-white palm tree, Niall doesn’t know why it makes his insides ache. He slips off the sofa, spends a minute carefully moving presents around until he can crawl under his own tree. He chooses the filter that makes it seem greenest, the lights glowing bright and multicolored.

_niallhoran: safely to arrive at home_

He pulls up their Christmas video next, the one they’d filmed when Haz flew over, the both of them in matching Stylan jumpers Anne had made special. They look like right twats, arguing over which song they’re going to sing first, Harry playing fire to win rocks-paper-scissor like always. 

Niall closes his eyes when Harry starts to sing, his voice rough before it evens out. They’d done the whole thing in one take, uploaded it right after. Just a dumb promo, something to remind people they were still around, Louis said. Niall hears himself join in, looking at the screen in time to catch Harry smiling at him around the lyrics. He’s probably sitting down to dinner right now, telling some dumbshit joke that has his whole family in tears. Niall needs to go to bed. Theo’ll be up before the sun, wanting to open his presents.

Instead he stays up and watches the video another time. He knows it’s probably a bit pathetic but he can’t bring himself to care.

&&&

“You just keep playing the same chord,” Harry frowns, Niall’s face hardening.

“No, you’re just not paying attention.” He plays them again and Harry blinks. They’re the same fucking thing. 

Harry tries to play it back, the both of them only getting more and more frustrated. 

“This is,” Niall says eventually, “it’s not going to work.” 

“It could, though.” Harry doesn’t know if he believes that or if he’s just so sold on the idea of them covering “Landslide” that he wants it to be true. 

Niall stares at him, his face pale on the screen.

“Forget it,” Harry says. Niall’s right. No part of it is coming together, everything they try sounding off or too much like the original.

“Sorry. I just,” Niall sighs, rubbing at his eyes, “this is shit, Haz.”

“Only a few more days, though.” Harry makes a hopeful face, waiting for Niall to smile. They’re both sick of Skype sex, of Niall calling when Harry’s in recording studios and Harry calling when Niall’s dead asleep. Seems so many months of living in each others’ pockets have spoiled them. They can’t figure out how to function when they’re out of sync.

They’ll get it, Harry knows. It’s just taking a bit longer than he’d thought.

**

“Surpriiiiiiise!” Harry throws all his limbs out as far as he can in the tiny back seat. 

“What the fuck?” Niall looks truly shocked to see him, stood in the doorway like he doesn’t remember how to move. Harry stops doing jazz hands to tug him into the car, waiting for Al to start driving before he kisses Niall right on his dumbstruck mouth.

“Al’s never heard you shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers,” he whispers, Niall finally waking out of his stupor and kissing Harry back. It’s not the snog he was hoping for but Al probably appreciates their restraint.

“Thought he was gonna cry if I didn’t let him come with,” Al says. “You should’ve heard him this whole month, it was like driving around with California’s biggest baby.”

“Slander,” Harry says, hooking his knee over Niall’s legs. It’s been so long. 

“Dunno,” Niall pushes his sunglasses up into his hair so Harry can see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, “sounds like you, if we’re being honest.”

Harry’s jaw drops as he sputters, Al losing it laughing up front. 

“It was real quiet without you around, Niall.” Al adjusts the mirror like he wants to get a good look at both of them. Harry understands. He’s been waiting for a good look at Niall since he dropped him off at Heathrow before the hols. “Good to have you back.”

**

“Fuck, Haz,” Niall turns his head at the last possible second so he doesn’t yawn directly into Harry’s mouth. “Thought I could rally, but.”

“I keep telling you, you have to follow the schedule.”

Niall rolls away from him, yawning again. “Look, I love you, but you gotta shut the fuck up about the schedule. It’s not happening.”

Harry opens his mouth to argue -- it _works_ , and if Niall would just try it for once he probably wouldn’t be passing out before he even got his pants off -- but stops himself. It’s useless, especially right now. 

“Just a quick kip is all,” Niall says, reaching blindly for Harry’s hand and squeezing, “wake me up in like, an hour. That’s enough time, right?”

“Should be.” It’ll be cutting it close. Al’s coming back to take them to Jeff’s in two, and Harry knows Niall’ll want to eat and shower before the party. Oh well, so they’re a little late. It’s not like they’re going to miss midnight.

**

“I heard rumors of an album, is that right?” 

“Yeah, we’re working on it right now,” Harry says, one eye on the lookout for Niall. He’d ducked off to the bar a few minutes ago and now Harry’s been cornered by this producer whose name he’s already forgotten. The whole night’s gone that way, far more industry people here than Harry’d been expecting. “We haven’t started yet, not officially, but like. We’ve meant to, it’s just -- oh, there you are!”

“Here I am.” Niall fits himself right under Harry’s arm, smiling brightly, his face flushed from all the champagne. Underneath it he still looks tired, like he’s struggling a bit. Not that anyone would notice, but Harry has. 

“I was just telling --

“Glen,” he sticks his hand out for Niall to shake.

“-- Glen here that we’re trying to start work on the album.”

“Oh, yeah, any day now. Just need to coordinate it enough to get some studio time. We did a bit back in December, just preliminary stuff, but.”

“Well, it’s tough around the holidays,” Glen says. Harry nods, perhaps a little too hard because he feels like he’s swaying with it. This party’s gone on far too long. “I’m looking forward to it, when it does come out. Saw you kick off your tour here last year and it was impressive.”

Niall might well be exhausted, but his smile is genuine when he says thank you. Harry knows he’s grinning, too. He wonders if it’ll ever get old, hearing people say they like Stylan. It hadn’t with One Direction, but Harry was sure it was because they were kids then. This feels different somehow, bigger almost, even though they’re only playing venues a quarter of the size.

“Hey,” Harry turns, trying to whisper in Niall’s ear without it being noticeable, “let’s call Al, sneak out the back.”

“Seriously?”

Harry nods, fisting his hand in the back of Niall’s shirt to stay upright. The way Niall’s whole body sags makes him feel like shit for not suggesting it sooner. 

**

“What,” Harry has to pause to hang onto the wall, the whole room slipping for a moment, “Niall, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Niall points at all the pans he’s got on the hob, Harry’s counters covered in bowls. Well, that certainly explains all the banging. “Proper fry-up.”

“At this hour?” Harry’s eyes hurt too much to see the clock on the microwave -- his everything hurts too much right now, honestly, but he knows it’s early. Too early for all this. Christ, normally Harry’d want nothing more than Niall in his boxers, scrambling up some eggs, moving about Harry’s kitchen like it’s his own, but. He just needs another hour. Maybe two. 

“It’s nearly eight, Haz.” He sets a pan back on its burner, Harry jumping at the noise.

“Fucking hell.” He frowns when Niall laughs at him, hollowly, like he’s mocking Harry. “Some of us didn’t nap last night.”

Even leaving when they did they hadn’t gotten home until nearly three. Harry doesn’t understand how Niall isn’t dying right now. Though he wasn't stumbling nearly as much as Harry had been when they clamored back into the house. That's probably why he mostly looks pale under the lights while Harry's here feeling like he’s been run over by a train. He sits down gingerly. 

“And some of us aren’t jet-lagged,” Niall points out. There’s an edge to his tone that makes Harry bristle. 

“Well if you’d just follow --” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that schedule is bullshit and you know it. You slept for ten straight hours last time you came to London.”

“At _night_ ,” Harry says.

“You went to bed at eight!” 

“And then I was fine after. I even made you breakfast!” Harry’s not sure how they both got to shouting, but here they are. It makes his head hurt even worse. 

“Yeah, well,” Niall gestures around the kitchen, “I made you breakfast, too.” He sets the plate down hard, the food jumping. Harry’s stomach churns looking at it. Even the smell, oh god. He pushes it away, closing his eyes, trying to breathe steadily.

Niall’s disbelieving laugh as he takes the plate away makes Harry want to vom almost as much as the eggs.

“Niall, please,” he knows he sounds pitiful, “ _please_ can we just go back to bed?” Harry only needs a few hours, then he’ll be right as rain.

It feels like forever before Niall sighs, says, “Yeah, course. Go on, I’ll be in in a mo.”

Harry tries to stay awake until Niall crawls back into bed with him, but the pillowcase is so cool and the room is so dark and Harry feels like such shit that he’s out in seconds, Niall still banging around in the kitchen.

**

Harry wakes up slowly, warm and dizzy and -- oh. 

“Good morning,” he runs his fingers through Niall’s hair. Niall pulls off his cock with an obscene sound.

“Morning. Feeling better yet?”

“Mmm.” Harry stretches, assessing. He’s felt better. He felt better thirty seconds ago, when Niall was blowing him. He lifts his hips, Niall laughing low before his mouth is on Harry again, Harry groaning at how good it feels. This is what he’d wanted for the morning, for the whole bloody day. Ring in 2019 the right way: with no one leaving the bed in the first place.

Niall pulls off again, kissing his way up Harry’s stomach, over his ribs, his mouth lingering on the butterfly until Harry’s breath is coming quick and shallow. 

“God,” he says, trying to haul Niall up closer for a snog. He can’t believe they haven’t yet; they really had started off on the wrong foot. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Or,” Niall rocks his hips, their cocks sliding together before he’s pushing himself up, reaching for a condom on the nightstand, rolling it onto Harry’s cock before he knows what’s happening. 

“But.” He gapes. This isn’t -- he wanted.

Niall grins down at him, braced over Harry on all fours, caging him in. “Had a lot of free time while you were sleeping.”

He shifts, one hand holding Harry’s cock steady as he eases backwards. Harry’s floored when he sinks into Niall easily, his whole brain shutting down like his mind’s frozen and has to reboot. 

“ _Niall_.” He honestly can’t believe, can’t process Niall in bed next to him, fingering himself open while Harry’d snored on, oblivious.

“ _Harry_ ,” Nially says in the same tone, moving slowly. He adjusts his arms, ducking like he’s angling for a snog again, only Harry gasps, planting his hand on Niall’s chest to keep him from moving.

“Fuck,” he grits out, Niall still moving, Harry having to hit his arm so he stops, “you’re just, fuck Niall, my hair.”

“Oh, shit, soz,” Niall laughs, moving his hand until he’s not flat on Harry’s hair.

“Hang on,” he pinches Niall’s side when he doesn’t wait, “no, seriously.” It’s a bit awkward, trying to pull his hair into a bun while flat on his back, but Harry manages, Niall rolling his eyes all the while.

“All set?” Niall laughs when Harry grins up at him. He’s still laughing when Harry leans up for a kiss, his tongue slipping into Niall’s mouth easily, tasting eggs and coffee and Niall. He still feels bad about not wanting breakfast but the thought of it sends his stomach into a bit of a roll again, like his hangover’s not quite as gone as Harry’d thought. He turns his head, trying to get more air. If Niall notices anything strange, he doesn’t say it, keeps rocking back on Harry’s cock like he’s trying to win a race.

“Fuck, Ni, just,” Harry wraps his hands around Niall’s waist, trying to slow him down.

“Been waiting all morning, Haz.” He’s smirking, his eyes made brighter by the pink in his cheeks. Harry doesn’t know why he feels so off right now, like they’re not on the same page. Niall’s here, flushed and hard, doing all sorts of things Harry likes and he still feels. Weird, mostly. He blames the hangover.

Niall twists Harry’s nipple, all the signals in Harry’s brain getting crossed as he hisses, his hips jerking. “You still with me?” Niall asks, and Harry nods wildly, planting his feet on the bed, resigning himself to the rhythm Niall’s set. 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Niall says, shifting again, moving so he can get a better grip on his cock. Harry’s barely doing any of the work, which is why it surprises him when he comes, hitting him out of nowhere and feeling like it’s over too soon.

He groans when he slips out of Niall, eyes open just enough to catch the way the corners of Niall’s mouth turn down, a grimace but not quite.

“C’mere,” he says, fingers digging into Niall’s arm. If Niall comes closer, Harry can finish him off, wank him or blow him, whatever he wants, he just needs. Harry can’t just yet.

“I’ve got it,” Niall swats Harry’s hand away, the only sounds in the room their labored breathing and slick sound of Niall’s hand on his cock. 

“It’s shit timing, but,” Niall says after, come still drying on Harry’s chest, “I mean, I’m leaving tomorrow so we should probably, like, work a bit. Before I go.”

“I _guess_ ,” Harry says, laughing hollowly at his own joke. When he looks over, Niall’s staring at the ceiling. “No, you’re right. We’ve got a lot to do, like.”

“Yeah.” Niall sighs before looking at Harry, something unreadable in his face. Harry leans over to press a kiss to his shoulder. He wishes they had more time together. “Five minutes, and then we do this.”

Harry laughs, leaves his lips pressed against Niall. “Five minutes.”

**

“You look dead,” Jeff knocks the brim of Harry’s hat, laughing when Harry scrambles to catch it before it falls off. 

“Niall was over, left a few hours ago,” he shrugs, “the album, you know.” Truth is he feels dead, drained. He doesn’t know if it’s lingering effects of the party, or how hard he and Niall’d actually worked, once they set out to. He’s not _glad_ Niall’s gone, he never is, but. He feels like he needs a bit of a rest after this go.

“Don’t know how you do it.” Jeff tries to catch the waiter’s attention and Harry finds himself hoping this is a quick meal, that he looks tired enough Jeff’ll take pity. 

“We manage.” Harry smiles, takes a sip of his wine. “Niall’s aces at planning, real organized.”

“Is that it? Let me guess, you’re just a pretty face?”

“I’m what makes Stylan Stylan,” Harry laughs, feeling a bit of tension drain out of his shoulders. Jeff rolling his eyes only makes Harry laugh harder.

**

“Harry? Did you say something? Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Lou.”

_He can’t figure out the speakerphone_

Harry snorts at Niall’s text.

“Liam, this thing isn’t bloody working.”

“That’s because you have to hit --”

“Haz?”

“Hi, guys,” Harry says, hearing everyone on the other end sigh, relieved. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” everyone says. Harry can hear Louis and Niall talking low in the background; he tries not to annoyed that they’re all together and he’s sat in traffic. He knows they’re grabbing dinner after, too, Niall texting him that he should grab the next flight out, they could bet on how many times Louis said _fuck’s sake, Liam_ during one meal.

 _Lol :(_ Harry had sent back, and then _14_. They’re still deciding the stakes.

“Sorry, Harry,” Liam says, “we know this was a bit last minute.”

“It’s alright. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Haz,” Niall says, voice louder than Louis saying, “It’s about your schedule.”

Harry frowns. “What schedule?”

Louis laughs ruefully. Harry doesn’t need to be there to picture Liam scratching the back of his neck. “Your recording schedule, mate.”

“They want more tracks,” Niall says.

“But I won’t be --”

“I know, they don’t care. Say they need signs of _progress_.”

There’s a dull thwack, like someone’s smacked Niall in the back of the head. 

“I’m your _client_ , Louis, fucking --”

“Well then act like one, instead of acting like a fucking twat.”

“Lads,” Liam sounds disappointed. “Harry, you’re going to do some work separately, is all.”

“Liam.” Harry grips the wheel tighter.

“Not all of it, Harry, just. You’ve got to give us _something_.”

 _This is bs_ he texts Niall.

“Just until you can get some proper studio time together,” Liam says. “I know it’s rough now, but you’ll sort it out. And until then.”

 _I know_ Niall sends back. _It sucks_

“Right.” He feels like they should be fighting back more, but Niall’s quiet on his end and Harry. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s been shit, the two of them unable to book time in LA, Harry not heading over to London for almost a month. They’ve been working, yeah, but. He supposes Liam’s got a point. They don’t really have anything to show for it. 

Harry sighs. “Alright, I’ll book a studio when I get home --”

“Already got you one,” Louis says, “I’m sending you everything now.”

“Thanks.” Harry blinks. “I guess I’ll talk to you later, Ni? We can figure out what we’re starting with.”

“Yeah,” Niall’s loud, like he’s leaning close to the speaker, “sounds good, Haz. I’ll talk to you.”

“Bye.”

“How do you hang it up again, Payno, is it just --” Louis asks and then they’re gone, Harry’s car gone dead silent.

**

“Meant to tell you first, that bridge you did sounds wicked,” Niall says, swiping his shirt over his stomach.

“You missed a spot.” Harry points to his own chest, Niall frowning until he finds where Harry’s talking about.

“Cheers.”

“No problem.”

“You could clean up too, you lazy sod.” 

“Could do,” Harry looks down at the come drying on his chest and shrugs, “wasn’t wearing a shirt before, so.”

“Disgusting.” Niall wrinkles his nose. Harry can’t figure out if he’s joking or not. It’s hard to tell sometimes, the camera making things seem like something else. He’s been having a rough time of it lately. 

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs, dragging it out like it’s really a chore. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

“There’s a sight!” Niall says as he goes, padding naked into the loo so he can clean up. Harry laughs, flashing a thumbs up to the screen.

“Better?” Niall nods, still laughing a little while Harry pulls his pants on before sitting down. “What were you saying about the song?”

“Sounds good, is all.” He shrugs, fiddling with something on his desk. “It’s weird, you know, without you right there with me. Feels less…”

“Organic,” Harry says, nodding. He’s glad everything he sent wasn’t shit in the end. He’d been so certain it was, felt so fucking strange to sing it with a track, some weird, pre-recorded version of Niall for him to match to.

“Yeah.” 

They lapse into silence. Harry’s unsure if it’s because they’re both still a little sex-sleepy or something else. He’s about to suggest they call it a day when Niall says, “So I was thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be in London for your birthday.”

“Right.” It’s the next time he and Niall are scheduled to see each other, and it’s. Fuck, it seems so far out. It’s not, really, but. It feels it.

“And Louis and El aren’t having a proper rehearsal dinner.”

“I remember.” Louis had Harry promise he wouldn’t be upset if they had the wedding the day after his birthday. Went so far as to have a contract drawn up, making Harry sign saying he wouldn’t be a hungover nightmare. Harry’s thinking of having it framed, giving it back to him as part of their wedding present. 

“So I was thinking we could throw you a party instead? It’s a Friday and all.”

Harry thinks about it, Niall smiling at him. It’d be fun, he knows. Everyone’ll be in town already. 

“What if --”

“Wherever you want,” Niall says, “even if it’s that place where we to drink out of jars.”

“I love that place!”

“I know. It’s terrible.” Niall’s laughing, though, and Harry knows he’d rent the whole place out if Harry asked. Probably mock him for the next dozen years, too, but he’d do it.

“It’s not, but what if, dunno. Think it’d be more fun if we kept it small. Just me and you.”

“Really?” Niall blinks, clearly surprised. “Twenty-five’s a big one.”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t know what he wants to do exactly, it still seems far off, but. “I mean, all I’m gonna want to do is --”

“Me?” Niall winks, making Harry laugh.

“Exactly. Just don’t see why we can’t like, dunno. Celebrate with just us. Get dinner, go back to yours.”

“Anything you want, Haz. You name the place, I’ll be there with bells on.”

**

“Niaaaaaaall,” Harry sings, “I miss youuu.”

“I miss you too, yeah, but Jesus, Haz, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Oh,” Harry leans his head against the window, hoping that’ll sober him up. He doesn’t know how he got so drunk. It’s not that late, at least not out here. It’s probably very late in London, “right, sorry. I didn’t -- I dunno, I was out and I thought of a place we could go for my birthday and I wanted to tell you and now I’m here with Al, he says hi, by the way.”

“Hi, Niall,” Al says dutifully.

Niall mumbles something that Harry can’t understand. He coughs before saying, “So where’d you want to go?”

“What?”

“For your birthday? You said you thought of a place.”

“Oh, right. I did! I can’t remember the name, though, but it has like, green in it. Like, the sign. Or maybe in the awning.”

“Harry, oh my god, I,” Niall inhales so heavily Harry can hear it and starts laughing, “I’ll call you in the morning, Haz, okay? Jesus,” and then he’s gone, which is fine because Harry’s ready to sleep, too, even if he has to do it right here in the car.

When he wakes up again, it’s to his phone ringing nonstop. “Lo?”

“There are three hundred million results for _restaurant green sign London_ , just so you know.” 

“What? Niall? Is it eleven already?”

“No, you tosser, it’s four, which is exactly when _you_ called me to say you wanted reservations at a green restaurant somewhere in London. I was just returning the favor.”

“Why?” Harry feels like he’s been dredged up from the bottom of the ocean, all his limbs ache and he’s not even awake enough to process Niall laughing at him.

“I’m just,” Niall sighs and Harry can’t process the different layers in that sound, either, “it was a joke, Haz. A dumb one, sorry. I’ll talk to you at eleven, okay?”

Harry thinks he rings off but he can’t tell, all he knows is the room’s blissfully quiet again.

**

“What if we changed it a bit, did it like,” Harry sings the line. It sucks trying to figure out how they want everything to sound on the album, him and Niall used to changing everything on the fly. There are some things they’ve never done the same twice and now they’re just supposed to pick a way for it to be for forever.

“Because that only sounds good when you sing it.” Niall runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. “If we’re gonna harmonize like we _said_ we were, then it has to be the other way.”

“But it sounds like --” Harry stops himself before he says it sounds like shit that way. It doesn’t, not entirely, but it sounds _better_ his way. “Alright, let’s just. Skip to the next one. We’ll come back to this.”

Niall sighs, not saying anything, but Harry knows what he’s thinking. They’ve skipped six other songs the same way. Nothing’s working out the way Harry wants, every damn song a new struggle. 

“This fucking sucks.” Niall sounds so miserable Harry wants to reach through the screen and hug him. “I don’t want to do this one right now, can we skip to “Mixed Signals?””

“What? Oh,” Harry’d been sure that Niall thought that like, the situation sucked, not the song, but, “yeah, sure. If you want.”

“I do.”

“Can we have like, a two minute break so I can grab some juice before we start?” Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. 

“Yeah, if you want.”

“I do.” Harry winces at how catty it sounds. “Just a tick.”

“Take your time,” Niall says, his voice tight as Harry walks away from the computer. He stands in his kitchen, holding his breath, just glad for a reprieve. He just. It’s so bloody difficult, doing everything this way. Harry makes himself breathe, inhale, exhale. Count to ten. They can do this. It’s him and Niall.

“Was thinking,” Niall says when Harry gets back, longer than two minutes, “this is like, obviously a shitshow.”

“It’s --”

“It is,” Niall makes a face, “and like, I dunno, we should just. Are you doing anything next weekend? I’m supposed to have dinner but it’s just with Payno. I could fly out, we could like. Regroup. It wouldn’t be for long, but.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry says, sold on it from minute one. He’d cancel on the Queen if Niall asked him. This whole month has been a mess of unsatisfying Skype sex and him and Niall passing like ships in the night. 

“Seriously, it’d only be a short go, like, only really Saturday.”

“Book it, we can stay at a hotel by the airport if you’re that worried about time, just,” Harry feels so desperate he digs his hand into his thigh, nails biting at his skin. This is exactly what they need. They work well together, but they’re so much better in person, “come.”

“It’s set then,” Niall’s smiling, distracted by something else on the screen. Probably flights. Harry shifts in his chair, an itch settling under his skin. Excitement at finally seeing Niall, he thinks. “You start playing the song, we’ll see how it sounds, yeah?”

“Sure.” Harry reaches for his guitar, strumming a chord. 

“No,” Niall makes a face, “not that one, we said we were skipping it. Come on.”

“Oh, right,” Harry shakes his head. He’d already forgotten. “Here goes.”

Next weekend. They can. They can do this.

**

_??????????_

Harry curses under his breath at Niall’s text. He’s late, he knows, he just.

“Hiiii, sorry!” he says as soon as Niall answers. “I was just at SoulCycle and then I stopped at Jamba Juice and I thought I had plenty of time but traffic is, well. It’s shit, you know how how it is.”

“We were supposed to start working a half hour ago, Haz, you could’ve like, sent me a text so I wasn’t sitting here like a twat.”

“I know, sorry, I just. I’m almost there, do you want me to call you when I get in? It’ll probably be like. Another thirty?”

“Thirty?” Niall’s voice gets all high. He’s been spending too much time with Louis. “Harry, it’s --” he cuts himself off.

“It’s just the traffic, Niall, I didn’t know.” He probably should’ve skipped the smoothie, because that’s where he’d ended up talking to Malese for longer than he should’ve, but still. It really is the traffic’s fault. Who expects it to be a standstill at eleven on a Thursday morning?

“Yeah, it’s,” Niall sighs, “I’ll send you what I was working on. Did some recording this week at home, see how it fits with what you’ve been doing, yeah? I’ve got to go soon, so like. If I’m not online when you get in just send me your half.”

Harry rests his forehead against the wheel, wanting to scream. He bites his lip instead, reminds himself that Niall will be here the day after tomorrow.

“Alright, yeah,” he says, when he trusts his voice, “and sorry again.”

“Shit happens, Haz, it’s okay.” 

Harry feels like it’s really not, but he tells himself it will be. 

&&&

“Haz!” Niall calls out, letting himself into Harry’s kitchen and dropping his case on the floor immediately with a thud. “Honey, I’m here!”

“Hold on!” Harry’s voice comes from somewhere else, if Niall had to guess it’s probably his bedroom, something in Niall’s stomach lurching forward at the thought. Maybe Haz’ll yell for him to come on up, and when Niall walks in he’ll already have himself spread out on the bed, open and ready for Niall like that one time last summer. Or.

It’s just this bit of manic glee that Niall feels building in his chest, hopes that this weekend will be enough to give him and Haz a bit of a reset, thinks that it’s what they need so it’s not these vicious circles of weird, out of whack shit that’s been making the last few weeks rubbish. It’s. Normally Niall would be a bit shit about flying to LA only for a weekend, a day and a half really, but Harry does it often enough that Niall knows his complaints wouldn’t go too far, plus the thought of two days alone with Haz is just. Maybe they can pretend it’s like the times they’ve been trapped in their hotels on tour or when they went to Majorca; Niall knows that with the wedding just around the corner Liam and Louis won’t bother them. Can just shag and sleep and talk and do whatever. 

“Niall!” Harry appears, his hair up in one of his messy knots, eyes bright when he leans in to kiss Niall once briefly, then making a satisfied noise before licking into his mouth proper. 

“Hey Haz,” Niall whispers against his mouth, “you’re here.”

“Oh my god, are we accidentally in the wrong house?” Harry looks around, linking his arms around Niall’s waist and pulling him close, “I mean, it looks like my house, but. Can houses have doppelgangers?”

“Stuff it,” Niall grins, feeling like he was right already, leaning forward into Harry’s arms so he can nose along Harry’s jaw. “Just thought you were in your room, like that time?”

“Oh yeah?” Harry’s chest expands, his inhale sharp, “later tonight we can _definitely_ recreate that.”

“What’s wrong with now?” Niall pulls back, snogging Harry before he can respond, walking them so Harry’s back is pressed up against the counter, Niall bracketing him in with his arms.

“I just mean,” Harry says, between long, long kisses, Niall feeling almost dizzy with it, “we’ve got the party tonight, so. It’ll have to be after that.”

He grins at Niall, and Niall tries to force his mouth to mirror the movement, feeling himself falter.

“What party, Haz?” Niall keeps his voice quiet, not wanting to ruin the good feeling that was flowing between them a moment ago.

“Oh, it’s,” Harry shakes his head, licking at Niall’s neck, “just a thing John’s having, I told him we’d come. I already had your suit dry cleaned. Think it’ll be sick.”

“Harry.” Niall pushes himself back, taking a step away from Harry’s reach. He wishes he could tamp down the feeling he’s having, but it’s like it’s all bubbling up. “Harry.”

“What?” Harry follows him, head dipping down to kiss him again, but Niall pushes him away, can’t help the frustrated noise he makes.

“I thought--” Niall starts, “I’m only _here_ for like, no bloody time.”

“But,” Harry looks confused for a second, “this isn’t some industry thing, Niall, it’s going to be like, actually fun. Thought we deserved a good night out?”

“Well.” At least it isn’t some stuffy industry do, but it’s still the two of them not being really _together_. “Normally I’d be up for it, Haz, but. I think that we’ve been, well. You know how we’ve been.”

Harry looks at him, his jaw working. “This distance has just been shit, Niall. We’re off. People go off.”

“We don’t go off, Haz.”

“Well we have, though.”

Niall cups his hand around Harry’s cheek, looking into his eyes as he thumbs at Harry’s lips. “Been trying to...dunno. I guess I just thought this weekend would help.”

“Me too.” Harry mumbles, tongue coming out to lick at Niall’s finger. “That’s why I thought we’d have a good time tonight.”

“Think we should skip,” Niall drops his hand, running his fingers through his hair, “can we just skip?”

“I already said we were going, so.” Harry tilts his head, mouth quirking up in a ghost of a smile. “We’ll have tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s our only full day, we’ll be hungover fucks. It’s not--” Niall takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself as he watches the smile slide off of Harry’s face entirely. “I just want to be here, with you.”

“And we can be there, at the party.” Harry’s gone stubborn, and Niall knows that he should stop, have them start over again, that they’re tipping into something new. 

“I can count the days we’ve been together since end of tour on nearly one hand, Haz. _One hand._ ”

“Oh yeah?” Harry frowns. “Then you should probably see a doctor, because you sure as fuck have more than five fingers on your hand.”

“It’s close enough, Haz.”

“It’s funny how you always know stats, Nialler,” Harry’s voice is neutral and he’s using Niall’s nickname like he does when it’s quiet, when it’s good, but it feels different this time, “how many shows we’ve had. What countries we’ve been in. And yet, right now--”

“Harry,” Niall warns, wants Harry to stop talking, wishes they weren’t standing in his cold kitchen.

“--you seem to be unable to count.”

“That’s unfair.” Niall pushes back the extra few steps so he can sit on the table, Harry standing still.

“Fair. The most fair. This isn’t just shit for you, Niall. We’re sort of a pair.” Harry leans back, crossing his arms. “You know, when you’re not with me, I’m also not with you?”

“That’s real philosophical, Harry.” Niall shakes his head, wishes his breath didn’t sound so shaky in the stark quiet of Harry’s kitchen. “Might as well be doing the downward dog as you say it.”

“No need to be a twat for no reason, Niall. I just,” Harry’s working up to a real strop, his hair going crazy out of its knot when he runs his hands through it, “I don’t get why you’re mad about this.”

“Because,” Niall feels like his voice is coming out too loud, but fuck it, “we had said I would come out for this weekend because most of the wedding was gonna be a crazy go, and then you go ahead and plan something else?”

“A fun party,” Harry speaks slowly, “is not a plan.”

“This is just,” Niall bites his lip, stopping himself.

“Do go on, Niall.”

“I’m just….” Niall takes a deep breath, looking away from Harry when he speaks, “it’s like my bloody recording studio.”

“The party’s not in a recording studio, Niall.” Harry’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, and when Niall turns Harry’s staring at him, his brow furrowed.

“I put in a recording studio. We’re recording an album.”

“Yeah, been real helpful, I’m still missing the point.”

“It’s just fucking _shit_ that I actually have a recording studio in my fucking house, and yet we’ve managed to record shit in there together what, once?”

“Niall, no fucking way.” Harry laughs. It sounds harsh.

“I know it’s early stages yet, but is this what you had in mind when we decided to do it not on the road? On our own terms? Is you here in some fucking recording studio and me alone in my house really what you were thinking of in this grand plan?”

“I don’t know why,” Harry steps forward, hesitating before leaning back again, “you are acting like this is my fucking fault.”

“That is not what I’m saying!” Niall groans, “it’s shit, no matter what the reason is, okay? It’s shit, and it doesn’t make any fucking sense, and I bloody hate it.”

“I sure as fuck feels like you’re saying it’s my fault, _Niall_ , since it’s not like I’m the one who has a recording studio in their house. Like it’s always me, ruining shit because I live here.”

“I never said that,” Niall can already feel how his face is flushing, gone pink and hot with anger, “but it wouldn’t hurt for you to remember the time difference a little better.”

Harry snorts, his body gone rigid, not like the pliant, easy give that Niall loves burrowing into.

“Once in a while it’s fine, I’m not saying,” Niall forces out a laugh, trying to break the tension, “it’s not the middle of the night unless you’re calling me, on the regular.”

“I,” Harry’s speaking so low, so quiet, that Niall has to lean forward to hear him, “lose so many days, Niall.”

“How does one lose days? Please, enlighten me.”

“Yeah, sure, sometimes I will forget and call you when it’s the middle of the fucking night,” Harry pulls his hair out entirely, it falling wild around his face, “but I’m also the one getting up early as shit so I can work with you, take meetings.”

Niall opens his mouth to rebut, because this is some shit, but Harry cuts him off.

“No, listen, okay?” Harry sighs, “I’m making concessions too. You can’t only notice things when it’s an inconvenience to _you_ , yeah? You can fuck around with Tom in the studio all day and then still work with me at four fucking o’clock or summat. Me? I get to be, well, good work team, Niall’s fucked off to bed and now I guess I’m off to try and salvage _my_ day. And I do it, and I don’t fucking complain.” Harry’s breathing hard by the end of it, and Niall stares at him open-mouthed, torn between wanting to hug him or hit him as hard as he can.

“Plus,” Harry continues before Niall can say a word, “you get to do so much shit I can’t, see Laser whenever the fuck _you_ want, go out with the LIC or even my sister, hang out with the lads.”

“Get it all out now Haz,” Niall spits out, the urge to hug Harry gone over the fucking moon at this point, “because last time I checked, you chose to move to LA years ago, so I don’t know what I have to do with that.”

“You have to do with everything, Niall, it sort of comes with the territory of me being in _love_ with you.” 

“Yeah, Haz,” Niall’s chest feels tight, everything centered on the small square of space surrounding them, like a fucking bomb could go off and neither of them would notice, “because I’m just neutral on the subject of you. Could take or leave ya. Fucking _hell_.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Like I don’t sit there in _London_ and see the latest pap shots of you, Harry’s new farmers market girl, Harry’s new Jamba Juice girl, look at Harry, what does this all mean? Makes me feel fucking great.” It’s not something Niall had ever thought he’d tell Harry, almost half regrets saying it. It’s not that he even cares, just makes him feel shit sometimes when he’s sipping coffee and Harry’s ages away laughing in the sunshine with someone, Niall wishing he was there. 

“Are you,” Harry whispers it, sounding choked, “like, bloody _questioning_ me? Do you honestly think--”

“Harry, no,” Niall steps forward, gathering Harry’s shirt up in his fist and tugging, forcing him to look at him, “this isn’t bloody about you, it’s about my feelings! It’s just the shit I feel.”

“So I can’t have friends now? Am I supposed to sit in my house like a hermit? So I don’t hurt you?”

Niall shakes his head, stepping even closer. “Harry, don’t be a shit.”

“Niall,” Harry’s eyes close, briefly, “can you please step back from me? I just really. I need you to not touch me, right now.”

Niall feels like he’s been fucking shot, flips through his mind to see if he can remember Harry ever telling him to step back, that he didn’t want to be touched. Tactile Harry at sixteen, reaching out for a cuddle even when they barely knew each other. Harry when they’re shagging, always pulling Niall closer, like he wants them to inhabit each other. Harry just a few minutes ago, grinning into a snog. 

Niall takes a step backward. 

“Better?” He can’t keep the hurt edge out of his voice, wants to hurt Harry just as bad. “Think I’m gonna change my ticket. Go back tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Harry looks him over, blinking hard. “Maybe you should.”

“I’m supposed to help Louis pick up his tux Monday. You know, Louis? Said he doesn’t trust anyone else. Said I’d help him. Gotta rest up for it. Be there for him. He’s getting married.”

“You don’t say.” Harry’s jaw clenches, and he reaches up to rub at his eye. Niall turns his head so he can convince himself that he’s got an eyelash or something.

“Hey, Niall?” Harry adds, turning and walking away, calling over his shoulder, “guest room’s open.”

Niall waits until he can’t hear Harry anymore before he leans down to rest his burning face against the cool marble of the counter, his ragged breathing echoing in Harry’s dumb fucking kitchen. 

**

There’s a bunch of shit turbulence on the plane. It fits, Niall thinks as he grits his teeth against it, matches up with how he feels on the inside. Can’t believe he actually left.

Can’t believe Harry let him. Barely spoke to him other than asking him when his flight was. If he needed a ride Niall could just take his car, he’d have someone pick it up for him after. Made it real fucking clear he still wanted to be nowhere within Niall’s vicinity. 

Which is fine. It’s not like anything Harry’d said the night before made Niall want to be around him anyway. Niall can’t remember a time he’d spent more than a few hours in a fight with Harry, in almost...fuck, ten years.

He’s still mad. Doesn’t know when he’ll get over it. Avoids thinking about how in just a few days, Harry will be making the same plane trip. He can find his own fucking way from the airport, then. 

_Landed in London_ Niall texts him all the same when they land, waiting to get off the fucking plane and home, into his own bed.

 _Still in LA_ is what Harry’s sent back, not til Niall’s already dropping his shit in his lounge. Fucking fine then. 

**

He’s already been at the store for ages when Louis finally runs in, looking winded like he ran the whole fucking way. Niall steels himself against it, that feeling like he could set the entire world on fire still settled deep in his veins, not going anywhere at all. He doesn’t want to ruin anything for Louis, but it’s also Louis, so. Niall just wishes he had been on bloody time for once in his fucking life.

Harry hasn’t called, hasn’t texted. Hasn’t been out at all, according to the internet. No tweets, no dumbfuck instagrams. Niall hasn’t either, but at this point he’s not sure if he’s following Harry’s lead, or Harry’s following his. If they’re finally back in bloody sync and it’s over this. 

“Soz,” Louis pushes his hair back from his face, “there was a meeting that I couldn’t leave Payno to handle alone, went a bit over. You been here long?”

“Well,” Niall makes an exaggerated show of looking down at his watch, knowing he’s right on the edge of going too far. Louis’s getting married in less than a week, and he’s gonna be a shit. “We said we were meeting at one, so I’ve been here since ten of.”

“Huh,” Louis grins, “do you want a fucking award?” A man appears to take Louis’s coat, the same bloke who’d gathered Niall’s things earlier, offered him a drink. Niall wishes he’d taken him up on it.

“No, I’d have wanted you to be on time, but,” Niall sighs, something in the back of his head reminding him of every time Louis’s been an absolute twat since he and Harry started Stylan, “we can’t always get what we want, Tommo.”

“Alright,” Louis looks Niall up and down, his eyes narrowing as he considers, “you clearly woke up cranky today, but I’m going to let it slide because we’ll all be done with this soon enough, and I’m fucking blasted and am not in the mood.”

“Generous of you, Louis.” Niall takes a deep breath, tries to smile. “C’mon then, let’s get you tuxed up. Now that you’re here.”

Louis shakes his head, giving Niall an odd look as they follow the bloke to the private changing room, Niall finally accepting the drink when it’s offered again, then another, while Louis is getting his wedding kit on.

“Alright,” Louis calls out, Niall sitting up, “be fucking brutal about this, because I don’t want to look a twat.”

“Too late,” Niall says, before Louis even walks out, finishing the last dregs of his second drink. He bursts out laughing the second Louis appears.

“What the fuck?” Louis hisses, looking down at himself. “That fucking bad, Horan?”

“No, it’s --” Niall extends out his hand, gesturing to Louis’s plain black morning suit, simple. “What the fuck did you need me for?”

“Dunno, I.” Louis turns to the mirror, adjusting his cuffs. “It’s the one thing I didn’t consult with El on, didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“Tell me, how does one fuck up a suit?”

“Interesting that you should ask that, considering you know our Harry quite well,” Louis meets Niall’s eyes in the mirror, waving away the bloke when he appears again. “Give us a minute.”

“No problem, Mr. Tomlinson.” 

Niall snorts, starting to laugh again at Louis’s glare as the man leaves. “I’m sorry, but _Mr. Tomlinson_. What are you, an old distinguished bloke now?”

“I don’t know if anyone told you, Niall, but we’re adults now.” Louis turns, twisting his head around to look at the back of his suit, “for fuck’s sake, just tell me it looks nice so I feel better about it.”

“How would an adult say it?” Niall can hear the mean edge to his voice, Louis’s eyes gone narrow again. He knows that Louis needs that extra reassurance sometimes, that it’s something he’d never admit to. It doesn’t make Niall feel any less like he’s on fire. 

“Stop being a massive twat, Niall, and just tell me I look bloody amazing so we can go get some food, think you’re a bit hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I’m just --” Niall leans back, “really starting to wonder why I’m here.”

“Oh, _fuck off_ ,” Louis spins around so he’s facing Niall, “it’s been all go for me, trying to get this bloody thing planned, still keeping the label a success. I’ve barely seen you outside of meetings in fucking months, so I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience to you, fuckface.”

Niall stares at him, feeling frozen. Something about the way Louis says it, says _inconvenience_ , sets off too many thoughts of Haz, how he’d said it. How much it fucking hurt. 

“Sorry Lou, I--” Niall can hear his voice crack and he clamps his mouth shut, swallowing hard before he continues, “had a row with Harry, that’s all. Just feeling annoyed.”

“Okay.” Louis is looking at him in that odd way again, and Niall can feel everything shifting when he continues, “is it over the album, which do not think I’m going to give you a break on when El and I are back from the honeymoon, or is it a quarrel over something else?”

“Like what--”

“Dunno, maybe something to do with the two of you fucking?” Louis is speaking softly, but in that moment he could be yelling for as shit as it makes Niall feel, like the floor is melting beneath his feet. He should have had a third drink.

“How do you….” Niall’s not even sure how to finish the sentence, letting it hang in the air between them.

Louis tilts his head, eyes unblinking, “Zayn.”

“He wasn’t,” Louis cuts Niall off immediately, Niall feeling like he’s in for a raft of shit and Louis’s barely said a word.

“Don’t get shit about it, he was so tired he was babbling nonsense when it came out last week, begged me not to say a word. Imagine my surprise,” Louis crosses his arms, “when I told Payno just to make sure we had your sorry arses covered. Turns out, Payno’s known for fucking _months_. So I feel just fucking great about that.”

“Payno just found out, it wasn’t like we were trying to not tell --” Niall takes a breath, wants to do anything to not be having this conversation, having another person look at him like he’s a fucking disappointment, “you were planning the wedding, and we...we’ve been keeping it to ourselves.”

“Oh, I know how Payno found out,” Louis laughs, and the mean edge to it feels like it’s softened a bit, “you’re fucking lucky I have been busy. But at what point, when everyone in the band knows save me, did you think, oh no, don’t tell that twat Louis, can’t trust him?”

Louis looks right upset by it, and even though Niall knows he should count his lucky fucking stars that Louis’s not mocking him mercilessly over it, he’s not sure which version of Louis he’d prefer. 

“Louis,” Niall stays seated, watches as Louis starts pacing, “listen, for a long time the thing with Haz and I was...is….I don’t know, _we_ didn’t know. Wanted to keep it to ourselves, you know? I _know_ you get that. It’s just started coming out, sort of slow, and who even knows anymore with the two of us in fucking separate countries, I just--” Niall’s shocked when the hot rush of tears builds up behind his eyes, stopping so he can jam his palms into his face too hard, trying to will them away.

The sofa dips with Louis’s weight. “Nialler.”

“I dunno,” Niall can hear how thick his voice comes out, hates it, “he was a real shit. I was. We both were.”

“When is he getting in?” When Niall turns his head to look at Louis, he’s got out his phone, “Thursday? I’m booked up, but maybe I could talk to him. Maybe after El and I deal with the bloody rehearsal do on Friday?”

Fuck. Haz’s birthday. “No, Louis. You’ve got too much. Plus I don’t know if it’ll help, if--”

“Oh, am I still supposed to pretend I don’t know you two are dicking each other down for days on end?” Louis laughs, but it doesn’t feel mean anymore. 

“Only on tour, been harder lately,” Niall grins at the horrified look that crosses Louis’s face. “I just, I don’t know Louis. Focus on your wedding, yeah? You’re not in a state over El, enjoy that.”

“She _is_ a sure thing.” Louis grins, his eyes crinkling up, and Niall’s chest goes tight.

It comes out before Niall can help himself. “I love him, Louis.”

“No shit.” Louis looks at Niall for a moment, his hand suddenly squeezing Niall’s arm. “You know what it was?”

“What what was?” Niall rubs at his face, “don’t think I’m in the right mind for puzzles, Tommo.”

“El made spag bol for dinner,” Louis has a faraway look on his face, his hand still gripping Niall, “it’d been a terrible fucking day, Payno and I have this duo we represent who are right fucking twats, want to argue every fucking topic.”

“Louis.”

“Anyway,” Louis clears his throat, “so El is sitting there, and she just keeps nodding at me, right? Filling my plate with more spag bol. Just listening to me fucking go on for ages. And I get to a pause in my story, yeah? Just angrily shoveling food in my face. And she looks at me, and just says, calm as could be, _Louis, you can really be a twat_. Just says it. Then launches into some shit story about a dumb thing Bruce did.”

Niall shrugs. Sounds about right.

“So I looked at her, waited for her to finish. Soon as she did, I said it. _Love, I want to marry you. Let’s fucking do it._ ”

 _Oh._ Fuck. Niall leans so his shoulder buts into Louis’s side. “What a beautiful proposal.”

“It was.” Louis stands up suddenly, Niall nearly falling over with it. “You two are hot fucking messes, but it’ll work out. And Niall?”

He pauses at the door to the dressing room. “Yeah Tommo?”

“If you ruin El’s day, I will put you and Haz on the no fly list. Forever. Separate countries.”

“Go take off your boring fucking suit.” Niall doesn’t feel better, but he can’t say that he feels worse. He’ll settle for neutral, right now.

He can still hear Louis laughing, must laugh the whole time he’s getting changed.

**

He doesn’t call Harry Monday. Doesn’t call him Tuesday. Almost texts him Wednesday morning, but something stops him from doing it.

He’s holding his fucking phone, it actually vibrating in his hand, on Wednesday afternoon when Harry texts him.

_Booked a car from the airport. Staying at Zayn’s. Don’t worry._

Niall’s dialing Zayn before he can stop himself. Zayn answers right away, which is how Niall knows Harry said something.

“You okay, mate?” is how Zayn answers. No hello. 

“You tell me.” 

Zayn sighs, and Niall knows that if there is one thing he hates, it’s being in the middle. Niall feels like a real shit. 

“I dunno, I just know that Harry called, asked if our guest room was open.”

“Lovely.” Niall can feel the sharp, hurt edge to his voice.

“He sounded wrecked, Ni.”

“Did he?” There’s an embarrassing, hopeful lilt to Niall’s voice that he wishes he could slap himself over.

“Yeah, and before you get too excited, I didn’t ask any questions.”

“Haz didn’t….”

Zayn sighs again. “He just said the two of you were having a rough go of it, that he thought it’d be better if he stayed with Pez and I. Offered to mind Laser Friday so we could go out.”

“He’s watching Laser Friday?” Niall feels that wretched about to cry urge that’s been plaguing him for days. 

“Yeah.”

“His birthday is Friday.”

“Is it?” Zayn’s quiet for a moment. “Pez and I don’t have to go out, suppose.”

“No,” Niall suddenly needs to get off of the phone, immediately, hopes Zayn can’t hear the waver in his voice, “if Haz offered.”

“Niall, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Fine Zayn, we’ll talk later.” Niall rings off, feeling like a shit since he knows that of all people, Zayn won’t call back to check. Knows when someone needs space. Niall’s got so much space, he’s fucking drowning in it.

_Enjoy Laser on Friday. Don’t worry._

**

“Cheers, Willie!” Niall watches his cousin leave, probably done listening to Niall’s protests that he’s fine. So fine. The most fine person in the fucking universe. 

He knows from Zayn that Harry got in okay. Had called Al and weaseled out of him Harry’s flight number so he would know it, himself.

“Niall, you’re okay?” Al had asked, Niall managing to laugh it off even though he knows that Al’s probably had an earful of Harry. Or worse, a silent Harry. 

And now here he is, more than a little pissed from the pints that he kept drinking all night, pretending like he didn’t have much, much different plans for the evening. Just a week ago, even. 

He looks at the clock. Technically, it’s still Harry’s birthday. He looks at his Twitter feed, at the tweet he’d sent earlier, not missing Harry’s birthday in fucking years. Didn’t want to stop now. 

_@Harry_Styles, Happy Birthday to my other half...of Stylan !_

Harry still hasn’t replied. It’s shit.

Niall looks at the clock again. He knows Laser’s been in bed for hours by now. He thumbs at his phone, considering, his stomach churning like he might boot at any moment. 

“Hey,” Harry answers after barely one ring, like he was already holding his phone. “Niall.”

“Happy Birthday,” Niall wonders if Harry can hear the slur in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Harry’s silent for a moment, then, “I saw your tweet.”

“Just so you know,” Niall picks at the hem of his boxers, “I added in the Stylan bit.”

There’s a sharp inhale on Harry’s end. “Oh. _Niall_.”

“How was Laser tonight?” Niall suddenly feels struck dumb, like he’s not sure what he should say to make this shit situation better.

Harry laughs. “He was ace, Niall. He’s really talking now, like he’ll look at you like he’s telling you all this important, life changing shit, and-”

“It all comes out as gibberish.”

“Mostly gibberish, anyway. Asked about you, though.”

“Yeah?” Niall’s heart basically stops at that point, rubbing at his chest to try and make himself breathe easy.

“He was playing with my phone, saw a pic of you.”

“Wait, what kind of pic?” Niall sits up.

“Your big dick,” Harry exhales, and Niall can almost hear him shaking his head, “it was just that selfie you sent me last week, the one after you got the new blue jumper I sent. You know, the one I thought would look good with your eyes?”

“The ugly one.” Niall swallows hard, remembering when he’d gotten the package in the mail, the idiot pattern making him laugh before he’d shrugged it on, taking a pic to send to Haz.

“The amazing one.” Harry yawns. “Niall, listen.”

“Miss you.” Niall cuts him off, afraid of what Harry’s going to say. “Haz. Miss you.”

There’s a rustling like Harry’s moving around. “Miss you too, Nialler. It’s just.”

Niall gets it. He does. But. “Was thinking. Louis’s wedding is tomorrow.”

“You are shitting me.”

“And,” Niall ignores him, continuing, “Louis knows, by the way.”

“ _What_?” Harry sputters, Niall grinning at the sound.

“Yeah, we’ll discuss it later, he’ll be fine tomorrow. But,” Niall takes a deep breath. “Think we can like, call a truce?”

“A truce? Are we at war, Niall?”

“Dunno.” Niall rubs at his face. “Feels like it.”

Harry takes a shuddery breath, Niall feeling like his phone vibrates with it. “Yeah, Ni.”

“So. A truce. Just so we don’t fuck up Louis and El’s day. Then we can. Talk.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s quiet. “We can do that.”

&&&

One of Laser’s toys is on the kitchen table as Harry sits in the dark with his tea, this little red truck that he pushes all over his tray while he’s waiting to eat. There’s a bit of what looks like peas on it, Harry flicking it off when the light flickers on, Zayn stumbling in and blinking at Harry like he’s an alien.

“Haz?” Zayn’s hair is everywhere, clumsily patting at Harry’s shoulder as he passes to open the fridge, staring inside. “Pez wanted some juice.”

“How’s she doing?” Harry can’t believe how huge she’s gotten since he last saw her, how beautiful she looks. He thinks maybe it’s secretly twins, felt like twins when she’d pressed his hand to the side while the baby (babies?) kicked.

“Good.” Zayn sets the juice on the table before he sits down across from Harry, exhaling and shaking his head, “she’ll be asleep already. Need to have a rest here.”

“How’s she gonna do tomorrow? Gonna be a late night.” Harry pushes the truck between his hands, can’t believe that it’s already time for Louis’s wedding. That he’s twenty-five years old. 

“She’s proper excited, Mum’s picking up Laser after the ceremony and we’ve got a room, so.” Zayn laughs. “Think she’s got plans for me.”

“You’ll definitely end up with twins.”

“Not entirely sure that’s how it works, Harry.” 

“Who understands science, Zayn?”

“Dunno,” Zayn raises an eyebrow, “scientists? Anyway, you’ve got a room too, yeah? Or are you gonna be here?”

Fuck. “Yeah, we--”

Zayn rests his cheek on his hand, leaning forward. “You and Niall got one?”

“Something like that.” Harry mumbles, Niall’s thick voice still echoing in his head. “Talked to him, tonight.”

Zayn blinks. “Yeah?”

“Called me, for my birthday. We were...we had plans, before.”

“Laser had a good time, mate.” Zayn’s voice is soothing, Harry suddenly feeling like it’s so lucky that he’s got kids, that he’s really meant to be a Dad. 

“Was it that bad?” Zayn’s never been the type to ask questions, so when he does it makes Harry want to answer him.

“It was…” Harry pauses, trying to decide how much to say. How much he wants to remember. “Dunno, Zayn, the distance has been so shit since tour ended, I’ve never felt so off from Niall.”

“‘s not like you two.”

“He said some shit, Zayner.” Harry can’t get the image of Niall out of his mind, how mad he was, how upset he sounded. Harry knows now that Niall wasn’t accusing him of anything, that he gets it, but it feels like longer than a week, feels like nothing will ever be good again.

Zayn stares at him for a minute. “And you didn’t?” 

“No. I did.” Harry admits, pushing his hair out of his face. “We both did.”

“Shit happens, Haz.” Zayn’s eyes are drooping already. “People fight.”

“Niall and I don’t.” Harry feels it, the tears gathering fast like they have been all week, gone weepy and pathetic at the mere mention of Niall, barely left his house, cancelled all his plans. 

“I’ve seen you two fight before, nice try.” Zayn chuckles softly.

“Not since…” Harry sniffles, feeling like Laser tonight when he had a strop over not wanting to go to bed yet. 

“Since you two started your thing?” Zayn supplies, still looking like he might drop off any moment. 

“Yeah,” Harry closes his fingers around the truck, the edges cool against his palm. “He’s so….Zayn, I don’t know. It’s like, he was always Niall, yeah? I always loved Niall. Who doesn’t?”

Zayn blinks so slow it’s like his eyes might not open again. “No one.”

“But then we started writing together, and Stylan, and he’s just. He’s so _Niall_ , Zayn. He’s everything. And it was so easy, just. It turned into some rubbish, but even when it was rubbish, it wasn’t about _him_ , it was about how I couldn’t be with him like I wanted. He’s still...he’s still _Niall_. Everything.” Until he says it, Harry hadn’t realized, sniffling harder so he’s not weeping outright. 

“Everything is different for every person,” Zayn’s speaking slow, eyes nearly closed, “took me fucking forever with Pez, yeah? To shape up, for both of us to get it. And now…”

Zayn trails off, his breathing evening out. It takes Harry a moment to decide just how asleep he is.

“ANYWAY,” Harry raises his voice, pushing the bright red truck with his fingertips so it hits Zayn in the stomach and startles him from his catatonic state, “things with Niall. How did you grow up, Zayn? Was it some sort of surgery?”

“Test result, more like,” Zayn says, after a minute. Then he laughs at his own joke, a sure sign that it’s more than past his bedtime.

“Go to bed,” Harry feels oddly better, like he can’t wait to see Niall tomorrow, even if he’s not sure how things’ll go. “Also, wish me luck, because apparently Louis knows. ‘bout Niall and me.”

Zayn freezes mid-standing. “About that…”

“You wouldn’t.”

“It was an accident?”

Harry buries his face in his hands. “Zayn, please go to bed.”

**

“Here Pez,” Harry reaches around Perrie’s giant belly as she struggles to get Laser out of his carseat, “I’ll get him.”

“Cheers, Harry.” Perrie smiles at him, “thank god we’re not late.”

“Almost,” Zayn hands his keys to the valet. “‘s okay, Lou knows with Laser it’s a struggle.”

Laser kicks out his legs at the mention of his name, his hands pressing to Harry’s cheeks as he tries to settle him on his hip without mussing his suit. 

Pez laughs. “Sure, babe. Blame it all on Laser.”

“Hiiii!” Laser fists Harry’s necklaces, tugging almost too hard. For a two year old, he’s got a lot of strength. 

“Yeah buddy,” Harry bounces him on his hip, grinning over at Zayn, “your Daddy is throwing you under the bus, right now.”

Laser smiles. “ _Daddy_.” He says it in the same way he’ll talk about his blanket, like he’s so desperately in love with whatever that word’s attached to he could burst with it. Harry gets that feeling. 

Zayn shakes his head. “Stop corrupting my son.”

“Baaabe,” Perrie singsongs, linking her arm through Zayn’s, “now we’re really gonna be late.”

“Yeah yeah,” Zayn grumbles, glancing back to make sure Harry’s bringing up the rear. 

“Harry,” Laser says softly as they walk, tugging at Harry’s necklace again. He’d spent all night making sure Laser could say it super clear. Like Pez said, Laser plays favorites with whoever’s around the most on any given day, so Harry’s trying to take advantage as best he can. 

They really are almost late, the church already full up when they slip in, Louis’s glare burning into them from the front. Laser sees him, waving, and that at least saves them from the worst of it, Harry following Zayn and Pez down the aisle while Louis makes faces at Laser, Laser giggling with it. 

Liam’s saved them some seats, Harry so distracted by Laser that he only notices Niall’s there when he feels the familiar stroke of his callouses against the back of his hand when he takes Laser, handing him off to Zayn. 

“Hey,” Niall whispers as Harry sits beside him shakily. His eyes are bright. “Haz.”

“Hey,” Harry’s suddenly acutely aware of how surrounded by people they are; when he glances over Niall’s head he sees that Liam’s watching them carefully. 

Harry leans over, measuring his breathing carefully so he doesn’t inhale Niall’s smell, start weeping on the spot. “How much does Payno know?”

“Um,” Niall’s eyes cut over, Liam finally looking away when Niall’s head turns, “just that we had a fight. No details.”

“Okay.” The music starts, an string arrangement of a song Harry knows Louis wrote special, had asked Harry and Niall their opinion on it ages ago. It’s odd, how shaky Harry’s legs feel when he stands.

Eleanor looks gorgeous when she appears, and Harry makes it two seconds after swinging around to see Louis standing alone at the front, the biggest grin Harry’s ever seen on his face, before he’s crying, Niall laughing softly next to him before he slips his hand into his, squeezing once.

**

“How long do you think they’ll fight for?” Pez asks, loud over music, most of the people in the ballroom pissed already.

Zayn laughs. “Have they ever stopped?”

“I told him it wasn’t the time,” Sophia tilts her head on El’s shoulder, “sorry, El.”

“I think Louis will manage, and,” El giggles, “he should have known that if given the opportunity, Liam would want to serenade you.”

“At my _own_ wedding, Payno?” Harry does his best Louis, everyone breaking down as they watch Louis and Liam gesticulating wildly in the corner. 

“He’ll get it out of his system eventually,” Zayn’s nodding off already, Harry surprised he even danced as much as he did, Pez tapping into some crazy energy that Harry didn’t even know someone who was nearly nine months gone could have. 

“Babe, c’mon,” Pez rubs at his back, “it’s our last proper night out for ages, and I’m not going to deal with your snoring as soon as you hit the sheets.”

“I’ll rally,” Zayn murmurs, jolting when Harry kicks him under the table. 

“So any progress on the name if it’s a girl?” Soph asks, Harry only half listening as he watches Niall dancing with Phoebe out on the floor, twirling her around while she laughs. It’s been such a relief, to just even be in the same room as him. 

Harry chanced one dance, grinding against Niall quick in a crowd of people, close enough that Harry’s not sure how he’s gonna make it the rest of the evening. For a truce, it’s going pretty well, he thinks. 

“Zayn won’t agree anyway,” Pez is saying when Harry tunes back in, “so we’re just hoping that it’ll be a boy.”

“Named Steve.” El reaches behind her as Louis walks up, like she knew he was coming without even turning round. 

“Steve Perry Malik,” Louis grins, linking his fingers with El’s, “we on about this again?”

“Mate, I told you it wasn’t gonna be-”

“Nope, pretty sure it’s gonna be Steve Perry Malik.”

“Wait,” Liam ruffles at Harry’s hair when he walks up, leaning down on Soph’s shoulder, “I thought it was gonna be Steve Yasir.”

“It _is_ ,” Pez laughs.

“Louis’s being a twat,” Zayn leans back, wrapping his arm around Pez and resting his head on her shoulder. “As per usual.”

“Okay,” Louis laughs, “first of all, Payno, you’re still on time out.”

“You are _not_ my mother.”

“And _second_ ,” Louis continues, “I’m one hundred percent positive that Zayn and Perrie’s next child will be named Steve Perry Malik.”

“Alright,” El stands up before Harry can say anything, try to diffuse the tension, “c’mon, love, think we’re needed elsewhere.”

“Only for you,” Louis follows El immediately, Harry watching them and chugging his drink to keep his feelings in check.

“So,” Liam sits down, clapping his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “d’you think that El realizes the mistake she’s making?”

**

“We’ve still got a room,” Harry finds Niall by the bar, most of the people gone, the party winding down. 

“Do we now?” Niall’s pissed, his eyes glassy when he turns, his gaze traveling up to Harry’s face so slow Harry’s gone twitchy with it already. 

“Yeah, checked in and everything.” Harry had called ahead earlier, knew that Niall had kept it and didn’t get his own. 

“Think the terms of the truce will allow us the night?” Niall asks, setting down his beer and stepping closer, “if we promise to talk tomorrow?”

“You were the one who suggested the truce, so.” Harry waggles his eyebrows, “think it’s your call.”

“Nah,” Niall laughs, “think we both have to agree.”

“Then,” Harry looks over his shoulder, “I agree.”

“Good to hear.” Niall holds out his hand, “think we have to shake on it.”

**

“Still can’t believe,” Niall kicks off his shoes, bouncing on the bed, “that El and Louis left their own wedding before anyone else.”

“Louis’s been waiting for his wedding night for so many years, Niall, clearly he was in a rush.” Harry takes off his watch, watching Niall lean back on the bed, feels like he’s more pissed than he thought. 

“Louis, no longer the blushing virgin.”

“Best of luck to El.”

“She married Louis,” Niall shrugs off his jacket, “think she’s beyond luck.”

Harry pauses from where he’s struggling with the buttons on his own jacket. “Niall.”

“Yeah Haz?” Niall looks up, his face open, a flush from all the pints he had coloring his cheeks.

“I just.” Harry steps over to the bed, tossing his jacket on the floor before he knee walks up to where Niall’s propped up against the pillows, his mouth hanging open. 

“Just what?” Niall whispers, reaching up like he’s about to touch Harry’s face, dropping his hand. 

“Everyone’s so happy.” Harry settles so he’s stretched out next to Niall, surging forward those last few inches. “It makes me feel…”

Niall licks his lips. “Feel how?” He reaches up again, this time tracing the slope of Harry’s cheek. Harry has to fight the urge to close his eyes, wait for whatever Niall’s gonna do next.

“Like I just--” Harry can’t think of what else he wants to say, his thoughts gone swirly and rubbish as he closes the distance between them, kissing Niall carefully.

Niall makes a sound that Harry’s sure he hasn’t heard in ages, Harry reaching up to trace at Niall’s jaw with his fingers, feels it when Niall opens his mouth to lick into Harry’s mouth fully, his thumb still stroking at Harry’s cheek. 

“Hey,” Harry pulls back to rest his forehead against Niall’s, breathing hard, “you’re my favorite person.”

“Even when I say stupid shit?” Niall laughs, but Harry knows he’s covering, feels the weight of what he’s saying. 

“Terms of the truce,” Harry pushes at Niall’s shoulders, maneuvering so he’s sitting back on Niall’s thighs, looking down at him. “But.”

“But what?” Niall settles his hands at Harry’s hips, thumbs stroking there, pushing at the hem of Harry’s shirt. “You’re mine, too.”

“Even when I say--” Harry’s cut off when Niall surges up, snogging him hard. Harry’s done talking at that point, can’t think of anything better than this, Niall’s tongue in his mouth, Niall’s hands undoing the last couple buttons on his shirt so he can trace the skin of Harry’s stomach. 

Niall rolls them so he’s hovering over Harry, snogging him slow enough that Harry could weep with it, can’t decide if he wants Niall to take his time or just get it done now, can’t believe it’s ---

“Niall,” Harry tilts his head back into the pillow, exhaling when Niall nips at his neck, “been a month.”

“We not counting the Skype shags?” Niall sits back, his hair a mess. He looks down, watches Harry as he pushes at his shirt, only moving when Harry makes a frustrated noise, pulling on Niall’s arm.

“No,” Harry bites at his lip when Niall starts working on his belt, “those do not count.”

“Suppose it doesn’t, if I’m the one cleaning me own jizz off my chest, ‘stead of.” Niall scoots backward, making quick work of Harry’s trousers and pants, Harry’s cock slapping up against his stomach.

“Instead of what?” Harry takes a deep breath, focusing on Niall’s cock as Niall gets his kit off, settling back between Harry’s legs.

“Instead of you, taking care of it.” Niall runs his tongue along Harry’s chest, biting down on his nipple hard enough that Harry hisses, hand coming up to tug at Niall’s hair. 

“Niall, I need,” Niall glances up at Harry, eyes gone dark and hazy as he scrapes his nail across the STYLAN on Harry’s chest.

“What d’ya need?” Niall dips his head down, tongue tracing where his fingers just where, curving his hand carefully around Harry’s ribs.

“Fuck me,” Harry shifts his hips, the head of his cock catching against Niall’s, “I need it, Niall.”

“Yeah?” Niall snogs Harry before Harry’s able to say anything else, rocking his hips up so they can grind against each other. 

“Hold on,” Harry pulls back when Niall reaches between them to circle his thumb around the head of Harry’s cock, “I’ve got...in my wallet.”

“Haz,” Niall grins, “you come prepared?”

“It was in there from...from before.” Harry’s breathing hard, propping himself up so he can watch the line of Niall’s back as he leans over the side of the bed, coming up with Harry’s wallet and tossing the packet of lube and condom on the bed.

“Actually,” Harry reaches for the condom, dropping it over the side of the bed as Niall watches him, his chest heaving. “Think we’re good.”

“Jesus fuck, Haz.” Niall breathes out, his eyes about as dark as Harry’s ever seen when he starts snogging him again. His hand travels down between them, Harry unable to do anything but clutch at the blankets as he wanks Harry slowly, reaching down to roll Harry’s balls in his palm, the tips of his fingers teasing against Harry’s arse.

Harry reaches for the lube, ripping it open and catching Niall’s wrist, Niall still wanking him slow while Harry slicks his fingers. He guides Niall’s hand down, Niall huffing out a laugh when Harry tries to guide his finger in.

“Think I can manage, Haz.” Niall catches Harry’s wrist this time, holding it to his chest as he moves forward, Harry going tense until Niall drops a kiss onto the tip of his cock, making Harry relax into it. “You’re so tight.” Niall moves his finger slow, like he’s considering something, biting at his lip.

“Been awhile,” Harry mumbles, arching his back, “another, Niall, c’mon.”

“‘kay,” Niall obliges, Harry rolling his hips against the stretch. It’s so quiet in the room, the only sounds he can hear are his own heartbeat and the slick sounds of Niall’s fingers in his arse, speeding up when he adds another. Harry bats his hand away when Niall reaches for his cock, doesn’t want to get too close before--”

“Nialler,” Harry bends his knee, testing out the new angle, “I’m ready. I need you inside me. Now.”

Niall stares at him, crooking his fingers one more time that sends Harry swearing, grinning as he slips them out of Harry carefully. Harry feels the loss immediately, clenching around nothing and feeling so empty there’s wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, needs Niall so much, needs--

“Like this, Harry,” Niall runs his wet fingers along Harry’s side, turning Harry so he can spoon up behind him, the head of his cock slick against the small of Harry’s back. “Yeah?”

Harry twists before Niall can slide into him, kissing him as deep as he can with the angle. “Fuck yeah, Nialler.”

Niall runs the head of his cock along Harry’s arse, catching against Harry’s rim before he’s thrusting in slow, Harry going still until Niall exhales shakily against his neck, hips pressed tightly against him. 

“Gotta move,” Niall mumbles, tongue licking at Harry’s neck where it meets his shoulder, pulling out nearly completely before thrusting back in, Harry making a noise like he hasn’t for ages, Niall’s hand gripping hard at his hip while he rocks into him.

With the angle, Harry’s seeing stars every time Niall’s on the upstroke, his orgasm gathering faster than he wants, trying to move his hips so Niall’s moving more shallowly inside of him. 

“This is shit, Harry, I--” Niall gasps against the skin of Harry’s shoulder, “I need to see you.”

“What? I--” Harry’s not prepared for how he feels after Niall pulls out, even less so when Niall’s got him on his back, fucking back into him so fast Harry can’t handle it, can’t handle how Niall’s looking at him. “ _Niall_.”

“I miss you,” Niall’s speaking so low it’s almost like a chant, Harry unsure if he’s ever felt this good, “every day. Even when I’m with you, I miss you if you leave the room for one fucking second, Jesus fuck, Haz.”

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry says again, hitches his legs higher around Niall’s waist, the angle making his cock twitch untouched, “you are--”

Before he can finish, Harry’s coming, Niall thrusting into him twice more before his dick is twitching inside of Harry, cupping his hand over the head of Harry’s cock. 

“Haz,” Niall’s voice cracks, thrusting into Harry a couple more times shallowly through his own come. “What were you on about?”

He pulls out, his palm flat against Harry’s stomach when he cuddles up to his side, his hair sticking to the sweat on Harry’s chest. 

“Just.” Harry smooths his hand over Niall’s forehead, shifting and wondering how long he could convince Niall to stay here before they shower. “You’re just.”

“I’m just?”

Harry wants to say it, say everything he told Zayn, not sure how to get it all out, if now is even the right time. 

“Haz?” Niall sounds dopey with sleep, kissing the slope of Harry’s pec.

“You’re Niall.” Harry shrugs, closing his eyes. He listens to Niall breathe for what feels like forever, counts Niall’s heartbeat as it slows down.

“And you’re Harry.”

**

When Harry gets out of the shower in the morning, Niall’s still in his towel, spread out on the sheets with his eyes closed. There’s still drops of water glistening on his skin, Harry rubbing a towel at his head when he drags his fingers through Niall’s chest hair, Niall startling awake.

“Shit, Haz.” He presses his hand over Harry’s, Harry feeling how Niall’s heart’s gone off on a run. “Fell back asleep.”

“I saw that.” Harry sits next to Niall’s hip, scratching at Niall’s chest. 

“Hope housekeeping doesn’t mind the mess we made of the blankets,” Niall wrinkles up his nose, Harry dropping a kiss on his forehead. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Now is not the time for me to feel bad over the trail of jizz we’ve left all over Europe, Niall.”

“And America.”

“And America,” Harry adds, tossing the towel he had wrapped around his head on the floor. “Should I get dressed before we, or--”

“No, I think,” Niall sits up, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder, “we gotta like, focus.”

“Okay.” Harry shuffles around so he’s facing Niall, resting his palms on Niall’s knees. “Niall, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Haz, like,” Niall takes a deep breath, “I really said some shit, I never want to hurt ya.”

“Me neither.” Harry flexes his fingers against Niall’s knees.

“You didn’t want to hurt yourself?”

“C’mon, Ni, we’re trying to be serious here.”

“I am being serious.” Niall reaches for Harry’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Soz, I’m trying.”

“See, this is our problem,” Harry laughs, “our lack of focus around each other.”

“We can be focused sometimes.” Niall shrugs, “I’m serious about how I feel about you?”

“Me too, so much, I--” Harry shifts his weight, “I guess I just always thought that’d be enough, to keep us good?”

“It’s this--” Niall bites at his lip, meeting Harry’s eyes, “shitting situation. I don’t know what we can do, but only talking to have a wank and then send each other shit voice memos, or clean up our jizz while we do fucking work for five minutes. It’s shit.”

“We tend to send everything up on a wank and a prayer,” Harry laughs, squeezing at Niall’s fingers. 

“ _Haz_.” Niall rolls his eyes. 

“What?” Harry makes a _who, me?_ gesture, moving his finger to play with the edge of Niall’s towel. 

“You know.”

“I know, I think--” Harry takes a deep breath, “we have to do a better job of making time.”

“Talking about shit that we don’t get to when we’re apart.”

“Yeah, and,” Harry straightens his back, “I’m gonna regret this, but. Less phone sex.”

“No, I--” Niall sighs, Harry fighting back the urge to laugh at the frown on his face, “I agree.”

“And,” Niall cuts Harry off before Harry can mention about -- “this will be better for the album, too.”

“Funny, that.” Harry leans down to kiss Niall quick, “I was about the say the same thing.”

“Look at us, back up to snuff already.” Niall grins, Harry feeling it all the way through his chest, down his arms and legs, like this spreading warmth. 

“Well, we are currently together.”

“True, but,” Niall reaches his hand up, tracing his thumb over the swell of Harry’s bottom lip, “I dunno, Haz, I’ve got a good feeling.”

&&&

“Niall? Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, it’s fine,” Niall closes the fridge with his hip, setting everything down so he can hold the phone again, “just figured I’d see how your flight went.”

“Fine, I guess. No one bothered me. I slept loads.”

“Well. That’s good.” He stares at the counter, the sandwich ingredients spread out before him. 

“Is that really why you called? You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah, just figured,” Niall sighs. He knew this was probably a stupid idea, “you know, we said we’d try. And this is me trying.”

“Sitting at home, watching a flight tracker. Sounds more like you stalking.”

“That’s not _all_ I was doing.”

“No?” Harry’s trying to keep from laughing, Niall can tell.

“I was also making a sandwich.”

“For twelve hours?”

“Yes,” Niall says dryly. “Since you’ve left I’ve made the world’s largest sandwich. The Guinness people were very impressed.”

“Obviously.”

“I’m making one now. Earlier I like, ran errands. Cleaned a bit.” The place was a tip, Niall not bothering to do shit after he and Harry fought. It’d been awhile before Niall felt like it was neat enough that he could call it a day.

“This is weird,” Harry says eventually, interrupting his own story about some older couple on his plane. “I’m itching to get my cock out.”

“Harry,” Al groans in the background, making Niall laugh even harder than he had been at Harry’s abrupt topic change.

“I mean it’s nice and all,” Harry keeps on, “but.”

“Weird, yeah. On this end, too.” It’s weird in a way Niall can’t put his finger on. Probably because he’s never just chatted with Harry on the phone, it’s always been work or phone sex before anything else. They’ve been pretty shit at like, the regular parts of this whole relationship thing. “But we’re going to have to get used to it.”

Harry hums. “Making a habit of this, then?”

“Oh yeah. Gonna call you all the fucking time, Haz,” Niall pitches his voice low, “gonna ask you how your day was. Gonna tell you all about mine.”

Harry groans like Niall’s talking dirty, ruining it by laughing when Al starts grumbling again. 

“I think that sounds brilliant, but,” Harry coughs to stop himself laughing, whispers, “I think you’re gonna have to explain it to my cock separately. And he’s a slow-learner.”

“Do you WANT to walk the rest of the way?” Al asks, his voice coming through crystal clear.

“Niall, if you don’t hear from me in the next few hours, check Runyon Canyon for my body!”

“Oh, they won’t even _find_ a body,” Niall hears Al say, laughing, as Harry rings off. 

Niall’s just gotten in bed when Harry’s text comes through, a picture of Harry safely inside his house. Still fully dressed, which is impressive for Haz. All he’s said is _Still alive… For now !_

**

It’s not easy. Niall hadn’t thought it would be like, magically better, but he had still hoped that somehow everything would just go back to the way it was. He and Harry still aren’t at the same level of synchronicity they’d been in while they were on tour, but it’s not as bad as it had gotten, either. Niall at least feels like they’re on the same page these days, instead of worrying that they’re reading out of different books entirely.

Talking to Haz on the reg is helping. He wishes there were a way to be fucking on the reg, too, but. 

“To be clear, just because I’ve seen Harry’s prick more recently than Louis and Zayn have doesn’t mean I want to hear about it,” Liam says, making a face like he’s eaten fish that’s gone off.

“Oh, but Payno, when I --” Liam claps his hands over his ears, singing _la la la_. Niall stops talking, opts to make a fist and stick out his tongue, miming a blowjob, losing it laughing when Liam yells, “oh, WHY?” and closes his eyes. 

Niall snaps a pic as quickly as possible. _Liam REALLY didn’t want to hear about your d_ he sends to Harry, doing the maths as it sends. He’s probably at yoga right now, SoulCycle, whichever class it is he has on Tuesdays. 

“Tell Liam we can always try immersion therapy,” Harry says when he calls after his class. After Niall’s meeting. 

“You’ll send him a dick pic every day to desensitize him? Why don’t you send it to me and I’ll make it my job to show Liam daily?”

“Well I don’t want to desensitize _you_ , obviously.” 

Niall laughs, “Obviously.”

“We’re still on for later, right?” Harry asks. “I think if we can get through two songs we’ll be set for when you come out.”

“Yeah.” Niall bites his lip, wondering if he should bring it up now or later. They’ve been focusing on separating Stylan stuff from Niall-and-Harry stuff and it’s been going well, but this falls into both, and. Fuck it. “About that.”

Harry’s quiet on the other end, which makes Niall feel even weirder, like Harry’s going to lose it or some shit. When really the worst that could happen is he thinks it’s a terrible idea and vetoes it. 

“I was thinking, what if we push it back a week,” Harry groans, sounding like Laser when Zayn tells him it’s time for bed, “I know, it’d suck, but if we move it then I think I could stay longer? The full week.”

“Do that, obviously, but Jesus, Niall, we need to work on your delivery. Lead with the good news, it’ll cushion the bad.”

Niall can’t keep from grinning, ducking his head in case anyone in the ASDA notices him looking like a lunatic. “Haz, I’m coming for a week at the end of the month.” 

“ _Yeah_ you will be.”

Niall can’t even be arsed to roll his eyes.

**

“Alright, I know we’ve got the studio booked from twelve to five, but I was thinking we could go out after?” Harry goes up on his toes, leaned against the counter like he does when he’s trying to stretch out his hamstrings. Niall has to look away so he doesn’t choke on his bagel remembering Harry’s legs over his shoulders last night. 

“With who?” Niall’s been in LA two days and they’ve actually left the house both of them. It’s a new record, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’d call it an improvement, but he’s trying to get it through his head that it is one. That they need to do more than work and shag.

“Me.”

“And?” He assumes it’ll be some industry people since they saw Jeff yesterday, went golfing with a whole group of Harry’s friends. 

“Just me. Dinner and drinks after the studio? I know a place that’s not too far, I don’t think we’ve been before but you’re always complaining you can’t sit outside in London until the summer.”

Niall shrugs. “Sure.”

It’s not until later, when they’re at the restaurant, Harry giving his name for the reservations, that Niall fully realizes.

“Haz,” he says quietly, using his menu to block their table a little bit, “did you plan a date for us?”

It’s hard to tell in the low lighting, but Niall’s pretty sure Harry blushes. “Maybe.”

Niall reaches under the table, stretching a bit until he can squeeze Harry’s knee. “S’nice. I can see why you picked this place.”

It’s that farm-to-table shit Harry loves, only entrees on the menu, each one grass-fed and fully organic. Vegan wine, which is the biggest bullshit Niall’s ever heard.

“Are they -- are they playing _whale songs_?” 

“It’s a cello, fuckface,” Harry laughs. “The food here is really good, though, and look, they have real beer.”

“Oh thank god.” Steak and beer, that’s really all Niall needs. Steak and beer and Harry. Maybe Haz wasn’t far off the mark with this place after all.

Harry smiles at him across the table. It’s probably a trick of the light that makes his eyes look shiny for a second, because he blinks and it’s gone.

“You were right, Haz,” Niall says after, looping his arm around Harry’s waist as they wait for the valet to bring his car, “this place was way better than the whale songs lead me to believe.”

“It was a live string quartet, but good to know you’ll never let that go. Might as well put this in my phone as Whale Songs Restaurant.”

“You should, because I’m going to want to come back. So score one for you. A+ date.”

“Oh,” Harry slides into the driver’s seat, grinning at Niall, “it’s not over yet.”

“Well,” Niall blinks once they’re ensconced in a booth at the pub Harry’s taken them too, Irish flags all over the walls and Springsteen coming from the jukebox, “normally I don’t put out on the first date, but. Well played, Styles.”

Harry grins, his dimples coming out in full force. Niall touches his thumb to one, getting condensation from his pint all over Harry’s cheek. He ducks forward quickly, kisses it off, hoping it seems friendly enough that no one cares. Hoping no one notices the flash of his tongue, Harry’s shiver.

Niall takes a long pull of his beer. He really hopes Harry doesn’t have any more stops planned.

**

“Harry,” Niall shoves at Harry’s arm, nuzzling into the back of his neck, “Haz. Your phone.”

Harry reaches out blindly, the noise not stopping. Niall groans. It’s the middle of the damn night and he’s been here almost a week, has fully adjusted to LA time. 

“It’s yours,” Harry’s voice is scratchy with sleep, and oh. That makes sense. It’s probably someone who thinks he’s still in London but Niall checks anyway, always slightly worried that it could be important.

“Oh,” Niall breathes out, staring at the screen, a message from Zayn with more exclamation marks than Niall’s ever seen him use. “Haz, the baby. Not a Steve Perry after all,” Niall laughs to himself, and then again at Harry, flailing a bit, caught in the blankets.

“It’s not? Is it twins?”

“What? No, Haz, I’m pretty sure Perrie would’ve mentioned if she was having twins.”

“I thought it was twins.” Harry finally untangles himself, shifting so he can lay his head on Niall’s shoulder, Niall moving his phone so they can both see the screen.

“Just one girl.” She’s all swaddled up, pink hat on her head. Harry touches the screen reverently. 

“She’s so tiny,” he says, tilting his head so he can catch Niall’s eye, any smart remark Niall could make dying on his lips. Harry slides his fingertip over Niall’s chest, tracing the curve of his pec, his touch just as reverent as when he’d touched the phone. Niall feels wide awake, wired almost, like they’ve just done a show. 

“Ni?” Harry’s breath his hot on Niall’s neck. It’s a fight not to squirm. “Is it weird if we fuck now?”

Niall closes his eyes, blowing out a steady stream of air. Sometimes Harry’s a bloody mind-reader. 

“I think it’s fine,” Niall tugs on Harry’s arm until Harry goes with it, ending up settled in the cradle of Niall’s hips, the both of them tangled up all the way to their ankles, “as long as we never tell anyone.”

“Blood oath?” Harry kisses Niall, lets it get just deep enough that Niall’s cock’s starting to stir. “No, wait --”

“Don’t say it.”

“-- jizz oath.”

Niall’s aggrieved groan gets all mixed up with the sound he makes when Harry licks over the head of his cock, cupping Niall’s balls and then slipping lower, the dry press making Niall’s breath catch and all rational thought fall out of his head.

**

“Oh thank god,” Harry says when Niall answers his phone, “listen, remember when we were saying “Battle Fatigue” didn’t really flow into “Mixed Signals?””

“Yeah.” It was like, two weeks ago, the day before Niall left LA, and he and Harry have been worried about it ever since. All they want is a coherent album, Louis and Liam telling them it doesn’t matter as much as they seem to think, but Harry and Niall standing firm. It’s not ridiculous to want everything to come out as close to perfect as possible.

“What if we switch it, put “Why Are You So Broken” between them?”

It’s like a light’s gone off over his head, Niall turning in a circle, the fluorescent lights in the shop making everything feel fake, like he’s dreaming.

“Harry. _Harry_. Did you just figure it out?”

“Dunno,” Harry laughs. “Maybe?”

It’s only like, half their problems, but it still feels huge. Niall fights the urge to hug every loaf of bread on the shelves.

**

“Can’t believe you’re finally here,” Niall pins Harry to the front door, not even giving him a second to take his coat off.

“No phone sex was a bloody stupid rule,” Harry says, biting Niall’s lip before soothing it with his tongue. “We should think of amending it.”

“Haz.”

“I’m kidding.” Harry shrugs out of his coat, lets it pool at his feet. He takes a step forward and then another, walking Niall backwards until they can’t go any further. Niall lets Harry lead him upstairs like he’s the guest.

“What do you want to do, Harry?” Sometimes Harry wants a shower, or a quick kip. When Niall’d flown out last time they slept for a bit first, woke up for a slow, lazy shag. It’s been different lately, but in a good way. He and Harry haven’t been off as much as they had been. 

“Dunno yet,” Harry says, his kit making a small pile on the floor. It’s a stupid thing, will surely annoy Niall in a bit, Harry’s scarves and hats and socks littering the house, but he doesn’t mind it terribly, the way Harry takes over the place like it’s his own. 

“Niall, wait,” Harry says later, his teeth digging into his lip, voice strained like he can barely get the words out, “give me a mo.”

“Kay,” Niall holds as still as he can, uses the time to take in the slope of Harry’s back, his hair falling over the pillows, the faint lines on his skin from where Niall’d scratched him. Niall touches the curve of his arse, the hint of laurel he can almost see from this angle. His hand hovers between them as he considers touching Harry’s rim, feeling where his cock’s splitting him open. He only doesn’t because of Harry’s ragged breathing, the way his arms are shaking a bit from holding himself up. How he’d asked Niall to wait. “Alright, Haz?”

“Yeah.” Harry rocks back, exhaling like he’s been punched. Niall feels the same way, everything feeling so much _more_ now that Harry’s moving again. He reaches around, ready to pull Harry off at the same time, only Harry stops him.

“No, I wanna, shit,” he turns his head as Niall thrusts deep, the angle perfect, muffling a noise in his bicep, “wanna see if I can, _god_ , without…”

His voice breaks and Harry seems to give up talking. Niall feels the same way, speechless, only wishing they were flipped so he could watch Harry come untouched. 

“I bet you can,” Niall says, his hand splayed over Harry’s back, holding him steady as he slowly falls apart.

**

“You have to warn me,” Harry says, his feet up on the dash like an ingrate, “is she amazing? Does she have Zayn’s hair? How does she smell?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her yet either.”

“What?”

Niall shrugs. “It didn’t seem fair, I figured I could wait for you.”

“Niall!” Harry’s voice is far too loud for Niall’s car.

“Plus she’s like, real small and can’t do shit yet so what’s the point?”

“What’s the point? What’s the --” Harry’s still sputtering when they reach Zayn’s, shoving past him and straight for the lounge.

“I told him I haven’t met Stevie yet,” Niall says simply, Zayn humming like he does when he’s got no clue what’s going on but doesn’t care. “You look good.”

It’s a blatant lie and they both know it, but Zayn does look as happy as Niall’s ever seen him, even through the sleep deprivation and spit-up stains. 

“Hi, Niall!” Laser shouts from somewhere unseen, Harry probably having him yell it. 

“The jig is up,” Zayn says, both of them heading down the hall. 

Niall’s sure his heart stops when he hits the lounge, Harry sat on the sofa holding Laser, his arms out at an awkward angle so he can help Laser hold Stevie. He can barely get it together enough to take a picture, his hand shaking so much that the first two come out blurry, Laser yelling _cheese!_ the whole bloody time, him and Harry making the same stupid smiling face.

It’s going right on his fridge. And phone background. Niall might as well tattoo it on his hand. 

“Hi, Laser,” Niall says, tapping his nose. “Hello, Stevie Nicks.” 

“That’s --” Zayn starts, stopping when Niall hushes him. He touches the back of her hand. She’s such a small thing, looks like a doll with Harry’s hand curved behind her head. It takes Niall’s breath away. It’s mental, how people start out this tiny. This breakable.

“Do you want a go?” Harry offers, nodding at Niall to take her. He can’t believe Harry’s surrendering her so quickly, but Laser’s getting antsy, so it’s probably that.

“She’s beautiful,” he tells Zayn, fitting her into the crook of his arm. She doesn’t stir. 

Zayn cups her foot in his hand, looking from her to Laser and then back again. “She’s a keeper.”

“So far,” Perrie says from the opposite sofa, hair in a sloppy bun, a pile of Laser’s stuffed animals next to her. Niall blinks, like maybe his vision will clear and they’ll be back in 2015 and the toys will be their cats, the bottles on the end table transformed into half-empty cans of spray paint.

Harry stretches out, tapping his toes against Niall’s knee, smiling until Niall smiles back, recentered. 

“I’m here, I’m not late,” Louis’s voice rings out suddenly, Harry making a face. Niall hadn’t known he’d be coming either, feels excited at the prospect of Liam showing up, too. All five of them for the first time since the wedding. “Let me hold my goddaughter!”

“He’s --”

Zayn just shakes his head, stepping back as Louis makes a beeline for Niall.

“Hello, love,” he coos, all of his hard edges disappearing the second he gets near her. He steals her from Niall so quick it’s practically a slight of hand. “Hello, Stevie Nicks.”

“You know that’s not her name, right?” Zayn looks concerned, like the first time he thought it was a mistake but now he’s not so sure. Niall thinks it’s his own fault, that they shouldn’t have named her Stevie if they didn’t want to draw the comparison, but he’s not going to say that. “Why do you all keep calling her that?”

“Zayn, you are literally on the same group text as the rest of us,” Louis says calmly, “how have you not noticed before this?”

“Pez,” Zayn says helplessly, frowning when she laughs. 

“Oh, who cares,” she shoves the stuffed animals aside, patting the space next to her. Niall has to turn away when Laser scoots out of Harry’s lap, beating Zayn to the seat and leaving Harry with his arms spread wide for Zayn, a dumb, inviting grin on his face. He's so glad they have a few more days together, is so grateful for what they've carved out instead of all the hollow spaces in between that he can't make eye contact, worried his heart is going to punch out of his chest and ruin Zayn’s carpeting.

&&&

“Niall,” Harry feels a bit like Niall’s suggesting they fire Al, which is probably disproportionate but, “it was the first one.”

“I know, but,” Niall looks off screen, at the typed tracklist they’d made when Harry was last in London. They’d thought that if it looked official maybe it would feel it, maybe they’d know it was right. “Remember that song we wrote last tour, in Portugal? I think --”

“Wait.” Harry’d forgotten about that song almost, they’d only played it a handful of times, the second verse always tripping them up in front of a crowd. 

“Yeah,” Niall’s nodding as Harry turns the idea over in his head. They’d always said it was the type of song that’d play better down the road, once they got a handle on it, but there’s no reason they couldn’t slip it into the album.

“Didn’t we?” 

“Yeah, when I was out in March. We had a few beers and then --”

“Shit. Do you have it?” 

“Yeah, check your phone.” 

The song’s rough, Harry and Niall just drunk enough that they hadn’t fine-tuned anything about it, had just wanted to get it recorded while they still had the studio. Harry queues up the album playlist on his computer, tests “Wild Answers” in where they’d had “Bet Your Rider.” 

“No.”

“I know. We have to do it.” 

“Liam’s going to flip.” They’ve been planning on “Bet Your Rider” as the first single, had slotted it onto the album because it was their first song as Stylan, probably the one people have heard the most. 

“There are other singles,” Niall says, Harry nodding. He could make a case for at least three right now. It’ll be a fight now, but worth it down the road. Like a lot of things in Harry’s life.

**

_I think we were wrong_  
_We have to switch this up_  
_Flip it all to backwards, it’ll be a better build if it starts with wmd_

Harry ducks into a coat closet, shooting a quick SOS to Al before calling Niall. 

“We screwed up, Haz.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Harry.”

“Niall.” Harry heads outside to wait for the car, walking off to the side just in case any paps are around, hoping anyone leaves early. “Hey, so remember I had that party a couple nights ago, for Irv’s birthday?”

“I remember you drunk dialing me to say the phone sex ban was the worst thing to happen to you and a violation of the Geneva Convention.” 

“I am a civilian, I deserve aid in times of need, I stand by it,” Harry says, flagging Al down when he pulls in. 

“Gala a bust?” Al asks, miming zipping his lips when Harry points to his phone. 

“Anyway,” Harry shrugs out of his suit coat before he slides into the backseat, “they were serving escargot and it reminded me of that time --”

“In France when Liam tried one and was sick on Zayn’s trainers.”

“Oh, did I tell you that already. Soz.” Harry rolls his sleeves, stretching out in the seat. 

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Talking to you?” 

“Talking me off a ledge, more like,” Niall laughs at himself. “But I’m fine now, you can go back to your charity ball.”

“A gala is different from a ball, Niall, we’ve been over this,” Harry feels relieved when Niall sighs, a sign that he’s coming back to himself a bit, “it doesn’t matter anyway, I’m headed home.”

“Harry.”

“Too late, Al’s already rescued me, soon I’ll be in joggers on my sofa. You’re the one awake at four am, obsessing over ridiculous things, so just shut up and agree to watch Netflix with me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Niall says after a minute, “but not that shit whale documentary you keep putting on.”

“Yes, that one, you keep falling asleep before the ending even though that’s the best part!”

**

Harry’s fucking about with his guitar, sure that if he pokes at it long enough the “Landslide” cover he proposed ages ago will come to him. It hasn’t, not yet at least, but it’s starting to sound less like a straight cover and that’s something. His phone buzzes, Harry stretching over the sofa to see a picture of Laser sat at Liam’s desk, coloring. 

_Hard at work!_

Responding with a string of exclamation marks isn’t enough. Harry has no choice but to call Niall immediately.

“This is emotional warfare.”

Niall laughs. “Zayn’s got some, I dunno, thing nearby, Liam’s agreed to mind Laser during lunch but Zayn dropped him off early, it was a whole thing. Now Li’s got him writing up contracts.” 

“See if he amend ours, bump up our takes. Louis probably wouldn’t notice if it were in crayon, right?

“I’ll make sure he uses the black one, we’ll be set.” Niall pauses, Harry hearing the telltale rustling of papers while someone brings him his own paperwork to sign, Harry knowing his’ll be coming by courier later today. “Wait -- did that pic wake you up? I didn’t mean, you didn’t have to call.”

“No, I know, I was up, don’t worry.” Harry peels himself a banana, checking the clock, making sure eating now won’t interfere with his workout.

“Okay,” Niall sounds skeptical.

“Seriously, I was.” He’s been keeping odd hours lately, his internal clock a mess from the travel and the meetings. It’s basically like he’s on London time but in LA. At this point it’s easier to go with it, wake up early and get everything he has to do done. 

“I’ve got to go,” Niall sounds torn, “seems I’m being called to a meeting with a tiger and a brontosaurus.”

“Stay strong, Niall. Don’t let them convince you Stylan is better off as Stygersaurus!”

 _Brontigoran_ Niall sends later, with a pic of him and the animals. Harry tweets it with the caption _Gutted_. He’s pretty sure he can hear Niall laughing all the way across the world.

**

“Haz, before we start, what days work best for you, I want to book this flight before I forget.” 

“Oh, right,” Harry opens his calendar, looking for the most empty space in the next few weeks. They’re getting down to the wire here, Louis and Liam sending so many emails Harry wants to change his address. 

“Louis said to let him know ASAP, that way they can book us studio time for the last minute stuff.”

Last minute stuff makes it sound so simple, Harry knowing he and Niall have at least two full songs left to record. Plus the version of “Wild Answers” they laid down in May is good but there’s something about it that Harry hates, that second verse sounding too sloppy. He knows their perfectionism is driving Louis and Liam mental, but this is their baby, so much more so than the live album was. That had felt like a concession, this. This is everything.

“I know you’re supposed to come out here, but,” Harry pulls his hair out of its bun, feeling fidgety, “what if we switched? And I came to London, I mean.”

“You don’t have to, it’s my turn.”

“No, I know, but, I dunno.” It’s been strange, these last few weeks since he returned from London. Not that he doesn’t love having Niall to LA or anything, but more and more he’s been finding himself missing things about Niall’s house. Not even Niall-specific things, but London things, tea and jumpers and the hurried feeling of an actual city. It’s been getting harder to leave again, LA feeling farther and farther each time he gets back.

But Harry doesn’t want to admit to any of that yet. 

“I’ve haven’t seen Gem in ages, she’s so busy with work, and if I came back I could see her, and Laser and Stevie.”

“I see how it is,” Niall’s fighting to keep his face stoic, “I’m last banana.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is, and I’m it.”

“If you’re last it’s only because we’re starting from the back.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more.” Niall waggles his eyebrows, leaning against his desk so his chin can rest on his hand. 

“Tell me your schedule so I can book this bloody flight and show you instead.”

**

“What’s that?” Niall calls from the loo, opening the door so Harry can catch a glimpse of him, still damp, towel around his waist, shaving cream on his chin. 

“Oh,” Harry stops futzing with “Landslide,” plucks the D string, feeling it resonate through the room before he sets the guitar aside, “just something I’ve been working on. It’s nothing really yet.”

“You’ll play it for me eventually?” 

Harry watches Niall tilt his neck one way and then the other as he shaves. “Don’t I always?”

“I dunno, Haz,” Niall speaks slowly, most of his concentration on the razor, “You could have secrets.”

Harry shakes his head, smiling as Niall rinses his razor, turning to Harry full-on. “You know them all.”

“That,” Niall crosses the room, coming to stand between Harry’s legs, “seems very dangerous.”

“Guess so.” Harry smiles into the kiss, Niall’s tongue slipping in the second Harry parts his lips. “What time are our reservations?”

“Eight.” 

Harry looks at the clock, considering. “Do you think we could push them back?”

“You don’t think we could make it?” Niall palms Harry’s cock, getting a spot of shaving cream on his trousers. Harry knows he’s thinking of all those frantic times on tour, how it was never a struggle to get off in a short amount of time.

“Could,” Harry says, fingers tapping at Niall’s collarbone, watching the way he licks his lips. “Don’t want to.” 

“Fair enough.” Niall reaches for his phone, his eyes going dark as Harry undoes the knot of his towel, pushing Niall until he’s splayed on the bed, trying to speak to the hostess while Harry licks the smooth plane of his abs, a promise of what’s to come.

**

“So these titfaces -- who names a band Leather Pants Collection, honestly? -- they’re arguing that,” Louis cuts himself off mid-rant, “Hang on. Are you listening to your _own album_ right now? That is some Kanye level egotism. You’ve changed, Hazza. What happened to that nice boy with curly hair who wanted to be a baker?” 

“Fame,” Harry says dryly, Louis laughing. “How was the honeymoon, Lou?” 

“Brilliant, thanks for asking, we’ve only been back for a few months now.”

“Sorry, things’ve been hectic. Don’t know if you heard but our label gave us a pretty strict deadline for our first album.”

“Sounds like you’re doing alright to me,” Louis says pointedly, both of them quiet while “Battle Fatigue” plays in the background. 

“Getting there.” 

“Harry,” Louis loses his teasing tone, goes soft like he does with El and his siblings, “nothing is truly perfect, you know that, right? You can’t -- you’re going to have to let it go at some point. Let it try to live on its own.”

“It’s an album, Lou, not a baby.”

“I know that, I’m just not sure you do. Liam told Zayn he thinks you and Niall are gonna hold the first copies more carefully than either of you held Stevie Nicks.”

“Never. Now, more carefully than Niall used to hold Theo…” 

“Oh god,” Louis cracks up, has Harry laughing too. His email refreshes, a new message from Niall popping up, a reminder for Harry to forward his flight info as soon as he books it. Time’s flying these days, seems like every time Harry turns around one of them’s coming or going. Harry gets exhausted if he stops to think about it, so he tries not to.

“So what’d you need, Louis? Did I forget to sign something in the packet I sent back with Niall on Monday?”

“No, I just thought I’d check in. With the wedding and the honeymoon and you and Niall going through customs like it’s a revolving door, it’s been --”

“A madhouse. Yeah.” Harry kicks his feet onto his coffee table. “Could be loads worse though.”

Louis hums. “You and Niall are good now?”

“Yeah, mostly.” He scratches his ankle. They are good mostly, probably the best they’ve ever been in terms of like, everything, but there’s still parts that are shit. “How’d you manage for so long? Being apart from El, I mean.”

It’s quiet for such a long time that Harry thinks Louis isn’t going to answer. He wonders if he could ring off, try to salvage some of his dignity by pretending it never happened.

“It was shit,” the plaintive way Louis says it makes Harry feel worse, not better, “not all the time, but. Enough.” He pauses, sighing, like he’s trying to think before he speaks for once, “But it wasn’t forever. We stopped touring eventually. And here we are.”

“And there you are.” Harry stays quiet for a long time. It sounds so simple, Louis laying it all out like that, but they both know it’s not at all. 

“It’s Niall, Hazza,” Louis says eventually, “you’ll work it out.” He coughs. “Now, while I’ve got you on the line, _have_ you made any decisions about the artwork?”

&&&

“Don’t get mad,” Niall says, as soon as Harry gets in his car at Heathrow.

“Well this sounds good.” Harry closes the door, leaning over Niall to roll up his window before kissing him. “Hi.”

Niall kisses him back, giving it a moment, “hey, Haz.”

“So what is this thing I’m not supposed to get mad about?” Harry leans back as Niall starts to drive, weaving his way through the crowd of cars.

“Well,” Niall swears under his breath when some fuckhead nearly cuts him off, “you know how you said you wanted to make that new recipe you found for dinner tonight, then watch that movie?”

“Yeah, and if you didn’t get the ingredients it’s fine,” Harry reaches over and covers Niall’s hand with his own on the gearshift. “We can stop on the way.”

“I _did_ get the ingredients, and we can still make it, but maybe tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night as in when we have the dinner with Mum and Maura Horan?” Harry taps his fingers on the window, and Niall swears again. He’d forgotten that, how they’d planned to tell their Mums together, things going so well that it felt like the right time. 

“Okay, well,” Niall grimaces, knows that Harry will ultimately be excited about the change, but he’s been on and on about this special date night for ages, even planned his flight so he’d be the most coherent, took the red eye and slept through the night. Niall doesn’t know what he’s on about, but. 

“Well…” Harry draws it out, laughing finally, “Niall, you gotta tell me, or else I’ll have you diagnosed with cancer or summat.”

“Zayn called, he’d told Pez he would get them a sitter for today and forgot about it. It’s her album launch party, so I told him we’d help?”

“Niall,” Harry starts laughing, “is the gist of this story that we are responsible for Laser and Stevie tonight?”

“Yes?” Niall turns to Harry at a red, Harry laughing harder when he frowns, “Haz, c’mon, I know you love the kids, but you’ve been talking up these goat balls for a solid week.”

“Goat cheese croquettes.” Harry corrects, his smile so big that his dimples are like parallel lines on his face, “and it’s fine, Nialler, maybe we can break some rules, be the first people ever to have goat cheese croquettes for breakfast.”

“Yum,” Niall says, deadpan, “goat ball breakfast.”

“When are we going?” Harry’s practically bouncing in his seat, Niall unaware that a Range Rover’s structural integrity can’t handle Harry Styles excited over children, feels like the whole thing’s swaying as he drives. 

“Soon.” Niall hesitates.

“What aren’t you telling me, Ni?” Harry touches at Niall’s shoulder.

“That’s the other thing,” Niall turns onto the main road, grateful that traffic’s not too bad, “we’ve really only got enough time to drop off your stuff.”

“So no time for a reunion shag, is what you’re saying.” Harry rolls his eyes. “How will we ever make it?”

“This is a much different Haz than what I’m used to,” Niall laughs, looking over at Harry, whose face is clearly fighting a grin, “it’s been what? Three weeks?”

“Yeah, but,” Harry reaches for Niall’s hand again, “I’m here for ages this time, Niall. Patience is a virtue.”

“Goat balls and patience, the two most important tenets of a relationship with Harry Styles.” Niall leans over at the next stop, kissing Harry’s cheek quick.

“Oi, Niall, eyes on the road,” Harry shoves at his shoulder, “we’ve got some kids to take care of.”

**

“Laser,” Harry says, Laser looking up at him with a serious expression from the tub, “close your eyes.”

“Just rinse his hair,” Niall stands Stevie up on his lap, letting her bounce while she shoves her fist in her mouth.

“I don’t want it to get in his eyes,” Harry leans back, Laser standing when he’s not looking, “oi, Laser! What did we say? We sit.”

“Sit!” Laser yells, still standing. Niall starts laughing, Laser wrinkling up his nose and yelling it again, “sit!”

“Niall, are we helping or hurting?” Harry hands Laser his bath toy again, Laser getting distracted enough that he sits when Harry encourages him.

“Helping, definitely,” Niall tickles Stevie under her arms, and she squeals, garbling around her fist, “see? Stevie Nicks agrees.”

“Stevie Nicks is compromised,” Harry laughs, working the shampoo through Laser’s hair. “Laser, close your eyes.”

“Haz,” Niall fights the urge to laugh, Stevie kicking her feet against his stomach, “it’s like, tear free. I’ve given him plenty of baths before, he can handle it.”

“Fine,” Harry dips the little bucket in the water, curving his hand carefully over Laser’s forehead while he rinses, Laser whimpering just enough that Harry shoots Niall a triumphant look before soothing him. “Shhh, it’s fine, buddy.”

“Let’s not _celebrate_ the fact that Laser almost cried Haz,” Niall says, just in time for Stevie to spit up all over his arm. “Oh, disgusting.”

“Did the volcano erupt?” Haz asks, laughing over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Niall resists the urge to hold Stevie out away from him, cuddling her close as he stands so she won’t start, “dunno how Zayn and Pez do this 24/7.”

“Yeah, their menagerie in no way prepared them for the gross side effects of babies,” Harry pats at Niall’s knee when he passes, “you go clean her up, I’ll finish here.”

“Cheers, Haz,” Laser yelling “HARRY! SIT!” as Niall leaves the room.

Stevie’s wet as well, Niall glad that it’s not her bath night so he can just clean her up as best he can with wipes after he changes her, putting her into her pajamas after. He specifically picks the ones covered with bows and hearts that Harry’d picked up the last time Niall was out in LA, the two of them doing some shopping at the Grove early before the crowds hit, buying so much baby clothes that Harry ended up having to ship it direct to Niall’s. 

“You look so beautiful,” Niall tells Stevie after she’s all set, standing her up on the changing table. She squeals, shooting him a wide gummy smile. “The most beautiful girl,” Niall says again, fighting the urge to sing some vintage Direction at her. 

She grins, laughing harder this time and throwing up her hands to grab at Niall’s face. 

“Yeah,” Niall picks her up proper and cuddles her to his chest, “you are definitely your parents’ child. Do you like mirrors, too? Your Dad, loves mirrors. Your Mum too. Bet you’ll be doing selfies in no time.”

Stevie stares up at him, her eyes wide. 

“Alright, let’s go see if Uncle Haz is done with your brother,” Niall rubs at her back, “it’s nice when he’s here, yeah? We love when Uncle Haz is in town.”

Niall only feels vaguely ridiculous, gushing over Harry with a five month old. But. When he gets back into the living room, Harry’s already got Laser dressed, hair combed in the way Niall knows Zayn hates. 

“It’s almost B-E-D time,” Niall spells out, remembering that Pez had mentioned Laser’s fine to go to bed, but not if you tell him that’s what’s happening. “Should I get the song?” He switches Stevie to his other hip, Harry grinning up at him from the floor.

“Stevie, I love the threads,” Harry says, wrestling Laser into a hug. “Someone you know has good taste.”

“Here,” Niall holds Stevie out for Harry, “I’ll go get the song, and then we can--”

“Nah,” Harry stands up, Laser clinging to his leg, “I’ve got another idea.”

“But,” Niall feels a twat, still dangling Stevie in Haz’s direction. She doesn’t seem to mind, kicking her legs like she’s gonna bounce against the air. 

“Put Miss Malik in her chair, because,” Harry leans over the sofa, nearly toppling over before coming back up with two guitars, leaning them against the cushions. “We’re doing a concert.”

“Haz.” Niall rolls his eyes, Laser leaning over his shoulder and blowing a raspberry against his ear when he stoops down to set Stevie up. “Thanks, Laser. Haz, I don’t think Zayn and Pez would--”

“C’mon,” Harry pulls over Laser’s little rocking chair, the one Louis and El had made for him with little dinosaurs carved on the sides. Laser climbs into it happily, taking his blanket when Harry hands it to him, Stevie babbling next to him. “They’re in good moods, tired, let’s do this.”

“Alright,” Niall settles next to Harry, taking the guitar. It’s tuned already, Niall impressed that Harry had the foresight. “What are we gonna play.”

“Something I’ve prepared, duh.” Harry grins over at the kids, “just follow along.”

“Harry-” Niall wants to tell him, wait, what are you on about, but then he’s struck when Harry starts playing, takes him a moment. It’s the cover of “Landslide” they’d tried forever ago, but it’s like Harry’s smoothed it out, Niall able to catch on, joining in just before Harry starts singing.

“I took my love, took it down…”

His voice is clear, Niall glancing over at Stevie and Laser and realizing that they’re just as entranced by it as Niall feels. It feels. It feels like more, Harry not looking at him as he sings it, Niall glad he’d even mentioned it in the first place, glad that Harry’s apparently kept up with it. 

Harry finally looks up at Niall, sings, “well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I’ve built my life around you,” he almost falters then, Niall finally able to pick up his voice, join in. 

The kids stay quiet, asleep by the end of the song.

**

Laser’s out by the time they’re done, barely waking when Harry sets him down in his bed, Niall holding the sleeping Stevie, her snoring slightly. 

“Think she’s still got that cold Pez mentioned,” Niall rubs her head gently after he puts her in the crib, “was snoring like you do.”

“Niall, I’m,” Harry presses against Niall’s side, “I’m moving back.”

“You’re--” Niall turns his head slightly, Harry’s smile blinding. “What?”

“Wanted to tell you over dinner,” Harry whispers, Stevie snuffling softly, “like a surprise. But I. I couldn’t wait.”

“When?” Niall asks, then, “no shit, seriously?”

“Anytime, really.” Harry shuffles his feet, Niall aware of the distance between them, “I’m not selling my house, I figure we go back often enough that it’ll be good to have a place, but.”

“But you’re going to be living here?” Niall can barely believe what he’s saying, the thought almost too much to comprehend, “Full time?”

“Full time.” Harry repeats, “think I know a place I can move into right away, yeah? Pretty sick, got a recording studio and all.”

Niall blinks, feels like an idiot for how he’s got a lump in his throat, Harry looking at him like they just played a sold out show on the Moon. “Dunno, Haz, I think you should’ve checked on the availability of that place.”

Harry winks, “I think I’ve got an in with the landlord.”

Niall looks at Harry, suddenly very aware that they’re stood in Stevie’s bedroom, that everything he wants to do with Haz is off the table right now. 

“C’mere,” Niall pulls Harry forward, settles for kissing him until he loses his breath.

**

“Can you just, _Harry_ ,” Niall punches in the code, somehow maneuvering enough over Harry’s hands on his thigh to get into his garage, the door closing behind them, “are you trying to get us killed?”

“We seem pretty alive right now, Niall,” Harry’s already stretched himself over the console, his mouth latched to Niall’s neck. 

“Don’t you wanna,” Niall groans, pulling at Harry’s hair because he knows that’ll make Harry scrape his teeth against his skin, “get inside. Got a bed inside. Multiple sofas. Can give you a tour of your new place.”

“Mmmm,” Harry pulls at Niall’s shirt until Niall turns, licking into Niall’s mouth before pulling back, “seen it.”

“You’ve seen all I’ve got to offer, too,” Niall releases his seatbelt to he can lean into Harry easier, “and inside’s got air con.”

“So does here,” Harry pulls back, taking the keys from Niall and turning the car back on, cool air flowing through the vents. “Magic, Niall.”

“Alright,” Niall taps his fingers along the dip of Harry’s collarbone, “you win.”

“Wicked.” Harry leans back, spreading out his legs and reaching, the seat jolting back. “Can you--”

“Yeah,” Niall climbs over as carefully as he can, Harry’s hands bracketing him in as he settles over Harry’s lap. “Like this?”

“Your knees okay?” Harry leans back, his tan glowing in the dim light of Niall’s garage. 

Niall tests it, glad his seats are wide enough that it’s cushioned under his legs. He nods. “Gonna be weird, to not see you so tan, yeah?”

Harry’s laugh is low, a deep rumble in his chest. “It’s July, there’s sun here Niall.”

“Yeah, but,” Niall cradles Harry’s face in his hands, kissing him slowly. “Think we might have to make like, regular visits.”

“How regular?” Harry grins, “You trying to change my mind, Horan?”

“Fuck, no,” Niall must pull a ridiculous face, Harry laughing as he palms Niall’s arse, shifting him closer in his lap. “Just want you to know that it’s. Open.”

“Know something else I want open.”

“Harry, _jesus_ ,” Niall jolts forward when Harry’s long fingers are sliding down the back of his shorts between his arse cheeks, “you’re serious about fucking right here?”

“Something like that,” Harry leans up, shifting his arm so he can maneuver better, Niall exhaling sharp when the tip of his finger traces his hole. “I wanna shag you. Lovingly, Niall. In a loving, celebratory way.”

“This seems,” Niall’s back arches, rocking down against the press of Harry’s finger, “less loving and celebratory and more you fucking me senseless in my car.”

“Different opinions.” Harry snakes his other hand around to the front of Niall’s shorts, tracing the outline of Niall’s rapidly filling up cock. “Agree to disagree.”

“Haz,” Niall reaches for Harry’s pocket, hoping he’s got a fully stocked wallet, “what about Al?”

“You wish Al was here?” Harry laughs, “no, Niall, in the back.”

Niall pulls out the lube and condom, tossing the wallet on his empty seat. “I was just wondering, because.”

“I’m working on it,” Harry leans back further, pulling his hands out of Niall’s shorts and helping him get out of them and his pants, wiggling his own down so they’re pushed halfway to his knees. “He says he won’t move the kids, but we’ll see. Can we not talk about Al now?”

“‘course,” Niall rips open the lube, Harry slicking his fingers while Niall rocks up, shuffling forward so Harry can reach around and open him up. It’s an awkward angle, but.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, stretching Niall out on two fingers, “this okay?”

“More than,” Niall can feel how his thighs are shaking as he holds himself in the easiest position for Harry, Harry’s breath hot against his chest through the thin fabric of his vest.. “Haz, it’s okay, I’m good.”

Harry curls his fingers, making Niall gasp and rock back, “you sure?”

“Yeah, fuck, just,” Niall takes the condom he’s still got clutched in his hand, passing it down to Harry, hissing when Harry pulls out his fingers to roll it on. Niall tightens his grip on the seatback, pressing his forehead to the material there and waiting for Haz to guide his cock into his arse.

“Niall,” Harry’s cock is slick and poking into Niall’s thigh, “it might be easier for you if you like, turn around?”

“Are you,” Niall threads his hand through Harry’s hair, tugging so Harry will look up at him, “you get me this close and expect me to move? I gotta, just.” Niall rocks back again, Harry laughing as he sweeps his hands down over Niall’s back before gripping his cock, Niall fighting the urge to sink down too fast. 

“Ni,” Harry’s looking at him now, kissing him softly now that they’re finally eye to eye again, “I was just thinking of you.”

“I want to watch you, fuckface,” Niall starts to move, letting Harry set the pace with his hands wrapped around Niall’s hips, “want to snog you.”

“Okay,” Harry’s eyes are glazed over, “so do it.”

Niall leans forward, grinding down as he kisses Harry, licking along the seam of his lips until Harry opens his mouth, breathing hard and picking up the pace.

They move together like that for what feels like ages, the air con prickling up gooseflesh along Niall’s back the more he sweats, their breathing harsh and fogging up the windows with condensation.

Niall pulls back, getting his hand around his cock, “think I should slap my hand against the window? Like we’re proper doing Titanic.”

“Wanktanic,” Harry corrects him, smile bright and eyes wet, “‘sides, think you’re busy.” 

“You’re so,” Niall rolls his eyes, hand slipping fast over the head of his cock when he comes suddenly, sinking down and kissing Harry, missing his lips entirely, settles for running his mouth down over Harry’s jaw.

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry’s eyes fly open when he holds Niall down with one hand strong on Niall’s hip, the other bracing on the window as his cock pulses. Niall laughs, feeling giddy with it.

“I didn’t mean do it for real, Harry.” Niall kisses Harry’s forehead as Harry slips out of him, licking his lips and tasting his sweat. “But I appreciate the commitment.”

“Didn’t mean to, I--” Harry takes a deep breath, “that was.”

“Yeah,” Niall kisses Harry again, making it slow, “you’re really gonna be here, yeah? With me?”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums, eyes drifting closed, “love you, Niall.”

“You too, Haz.”

&&&&&

**December 2019**

“Alright.” Liam’s got a stack of papers, passing them across the table to Niall and Harry; Louis with his arms already crossed like they told him they wouldn’t do something.

“Louis,” Harry snorts when he looks down at the list, suddenly getting why he looks so ready for a fight, “what is this?”

“It is--”

“No, Liam, let me answer.”

“I _was_ , but you seemed--”

“Tell me, Liam, how _did_ I seem?”

Harry catches Niall’s eyes, rolling his and sending Niall off in a fit of laughter.

“Anyway!” Liam yells suddenly, everyone going quiet. “This is the list of the approved talking points for the interview, we just wanted to go over it before you head over there.”

“Since you only agreed to one,” Louis knocks his knuckles against the table, “it’s a long list.”

“So,” Niall scoots his chair over, reading Harry’s instead of his own, Harry moving it so he can see, “oh, good, we _are_ allowed to talk about our Grammy nominations, thanks lads.”

“Generous of you,” Harry palms the back of Niall’s neck, tries to remember what they’d settled on for the forfeit if Louis doesn’t try to punch one of them. 

“It is generous,” Liam sounds pleased, “Grammys, your recent AMA win, the upcoming Jingle Ball, next year’s tour.”

“Don’t let them get their heads too big, Payno.” Louis grins, like Harry doesn’t know that he’d cried when he found out about the Grammys, El confirming it and everything, “they’ll be absolute shit.”

“If anyone is good at press by now, big interviews, it’s Tommo.” Liam smiles, “so we’re not just taking the piss.”

“Things that are _off limits_ ,” Louis adds, a gleeful edge to his voice Harry recognizes, “are topics like, why were Harry and Niall late today, and why is there jizz on Niall’s face?”

Harry doesn’t stop Niall in time, Niall reaching up for his face immediately, Louis cracking up. 

“So does that mean,” Harry squeezes at Niall’s knee under the table, “we _can’t_ talk about the time you saw my dick on Niall’s phone, Liam?”

“I’d really prefer you not.”

“It’s so lucky,” Niall’s bounced back already, his leg shifting under Harry’s grip, “that you gave us this helpful list.”

“We really wouldn’t be able to do a _thing_ without you both.” Harry half means it, is the truth, not that either he or Niall would even admit it at the moment.

Louis turns his head, staring at the wall with his jaw twitching. “Fuck off, the both of you.”

“He doesn’t mean that.”

“Liam, you are quite a mind reader.”

“I’m just trying to--”

“Oh we all know what you’re trying to do, Liam.”

“The hols!” Harry exclaims, never able like Niall to let the two of them go on for very long. “You’re ready for Niall and I’s party, right?”

Both of their heads turn to them at once, Niall jumping like he’s scared, laughing over at Harry.

“That was some creepy mind meld, wasn’t it Haz?” 

“Please,” Louis scoffs, “you should see you two. Sickening.”

“They are proper synced up,” Liam agrees. 

“Tell me,” Harry leans forward over the table, lifting his and Niall’s linked hands so they’re on top of the table, “are we as sickening as Louis and El? Or no, what about-”

“Nah,” Niall shakes his head, both Liam and Louis looking like they’ve got a mouthful of lemons suddenly, “we’re like, disgusting. Worse than Soph and Liam, even.”

“We’re the grossest,” Harry agrees. “And Grammy nominated to boot.”

“Just,” Louis looks like he’s fighting a smile, “just don’t fuck up the interview, okay? For fuck’s sake.”

“We believe in you,” Liam adds, like a shit motivational speaker.

Harry laughs, something on the sheet catching his eye, “wait, they can’t ask this question, I don’t. I’m so sick of answering that.”

Niall looks over where Harry’s pointing, “ugh, that’s shit. No.”

Liam doesn't say a word, Louis clearing his throat. “So you two ready to get to work then?” 

“Yes, Louis,” Harry and Niall say in unison, both of them cracking up when Louis rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's made amazing art and said lovely things about this universe, we've been floored by the response. If you ever want to talk to us about Stylan (or any of our other fics), we're on [tumblr](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com/post/104683527310/way-no-way-irishmizzy-miss-bennie)! [[irishmizzy](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com) & [miss_bennie](http://miss-bennie.tumblr.com/)]
> 
> Also, for those interested, there are a few ficlets that take place post this fic located [here](http://miss-bennie.tumblr.com/post/113351065723/things-you-said-with-no-space-between-us-narry) and [here](http://miss-bennie.tumblr.com/post/120393938488/betrayal-in-the-common-room-narry-stylanverse) and [here](http://megalong.tumblr.com/post/122505678398/me-my-lover-carol-and-the-stings)! Hope you enjoy!! :D


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